Marked
by Rosie5
Summary: COMPLETED: Post HBP, Marked with a dark destiny he must now fulfil, Harry must put aside his hatred for Snape, his love for Ginny and leave his childhood behind if he is to put an end to Voldemort once and for all.
1. Done With the Dursleys

_**MARKED**_

_Summary:_

This fiction is set directly after Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince (HBP) and will therefore unsurprisingly contain HBP spoilers. Harry returns to the Dursleys for the final time before embarking on the adventure of a lifetime – a lifetime which may very possibly end. If he loses.

**A/N: **Hi guys, I know I haven't finished my other fictions, but after finishing HBP I just had to get writing with this! I really enjoyed this, as I kind of felt a bit like JKR and keep trying to second guess what she in contrast is actually writing! Anyway, please read and review because I know exactly where this is going, and there will be no delays! _I promise!_

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- "_Figured it out, did you?" Harry said to his Aunt. _

_"Congratulations. You win the prize. Now leave me alone."_

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**ONE: Done With the Dursleys**

Harry Potter sat crossed legged on his bed in the room that he had been reluctantly given for the past five years at number 4 Privet Drive. His brow furrowed, he had the look of someone who had grown an awful lot in a great deal of time; his expression was weary with experience and he no longer retained the 'boyish' look that had often earned him so much attention.

Dipping the quill into the pot of ink balanced on the bedside table, he paused for a moment before finishing his letter to Ronald Weasley, his best friend. Wanting to get the letter sent as soon as possible made him think faster and finish the sentence: he wanted Hedwig to have delivered the news as soon as possible after it had happened.

_I'm planning to tell them tomorrow night so I can figure out exactly what I'm going to say. I have no idea how they'll react but I'm leaving tomorrow evening no matter what. Seeing as the Dursleys' fireplace is blocked I can't get to yours by Floo powder, so I'll Apparate. Having a licence won't make it any easier though, so I'll let you know if I end up in Ireland. _

_Love to all, wish me luck._

_Harry. _

That would do, he thought, and sealed it with his wand. Hedwig, as though acting on cue, fluttered down from her perch in her cage and took the letter in her beak. She gave him an affectionate nip on the finger and hooted softly before she took off. In fact, Hedwig, Harry had noticed, had been acting a great deal more affectionately towards him these past few weeks at Privet Drive. It was as though she somehow knew everything that had happened and felt like Harry needed as much encouragement as ever.

It was true that the last month had been the hardest of Harry's life. Sirius's death had felt raw, painful and, at some times, truly unbelievable. After it had happened, Harry often felt too angry, too hard done by, too traumatised to fully comprehend what had happened. Dumbledore's death however seemed to have awoken a very harsh, very real truth within Harry's heart: that he was alone. Sirius's death had rather been confirmed by Dumbledore's, and the knowledge that he would never see either of them again often made him feel sick. Ron and Hermione had sworn they would be beside him of course, but they could not guide him. He, now, had to be the guide.

So he steeled himself with what he had to do: he had to tell the Dursleys that it was goodbye for good. He couldn't actually believe it was happening now, at last. What with having fantasised about leaving for roughly sixteen years, the thought that it was now happening was – well, frightening. Dumbledore's wish that Harry return one more time to the Dursleys' before his birthday was thus realised, but having come of age a few weeks ago meant that Harry no longer had the protection that his mother had left him … becoming seventeen meant that he had become completely unprotected … becoming seventeen meant, in the wizarding world, that he was now a man.

He began packing his things with the strong thought in his mind that whatever happened, he would be leaving the next night. This did not take long, now he was legally allowed to do magic outside of Hogwarts – _Hogwarts … _whenever Harry thought of it, it caused him a sharp pain in his stomach. It was the place he associated with Dumbledore, the place he would always see and know as his home … the place he knew that he would probably never return to.

After sealing his trunk with his wand, Harry lay back on his bed and thought hard about what he was going to say to his Aunt and Uncle.

After a less than eventful day of avoidance from Dudley, glares from his Uncle and what would probably be his final pitiful meal from Aunt Petunia, Harry cleared his throat at the dinner table. They did not look at him at first. He did it again, a little louder.

"Strepsil?" Uncle Vernon hissed irritably, not drawing his eyes away from the television programme on ITV3 about some random old king and his murderous wife.

Harry took a deep breath and spoke.

"There's something you should know," he began.

Uncle Vernon finally looked up and Dudley eyed Harry suspiciously, his fork hanging in mid-air. Aunt Petunia however was watching Harry with large pale eyes which were so unlike her sister's, a guarded expression across her bony face.

Harry cleared his throat again. "You see, what it is … "

"You're leaving, aren't you?" said Aunt Petunia suddenly.

Harry looked at her quickly. Her expression had not changed.

"How did you -?" he began, but she cut him off.

"You've come off age in your world. There's no need for you to stay anymore."

Harry blinked. "No, no there's not."

Uncle Vernon's eyes were narrowed, his lips drawn into what was unmistakably a smile. Dudley on the other hand looked very confused, as though he were trying to work out exactly what Harry had just said.

"All my stuff's packed," Harry went on. "I'm leaving tonight, not long from now actually." They continued to stare. "I … I just thought you should know," he finished lamely.

Since none had spoken since Aunt Petunia, Harry thought that was it, and rose from the table. It was only when he'd gotten up that Uncle Vernon spoke.

"So, you're actually leaving then?" he asked distrustfully, as though he daren't believe it was true. "Not that I don't want you to, of course," he added.

"Yes," Harry said.

Uncle Vernon smiled more widely, as though he was sure it was a joke. "Why so keen all of a sudden?" he asked. "Is this some little happy delusion you thought you'd tease us with before announcing that you're not going anywhere, like you did two years ago? What's suddenly so important, boy?"

Harry swallowed. He had not planned on telling the Dursleys' _why _he was leaving.

"There's … there's something that I have to do … soon. And I need to … I just need to be away from here," he said.

Just when Harry thought that his uncle's eyes could not narrow any more than they already had, they did – to the point of him resembling a Chinese person.

"What are you up to, boy? Have you finally been chucked out of that madhouse for bad behaviour? Going on the run? Has that mad old fool finally realised what a _freak _you are and decided to kick you into touch –"

"He's dead," Harry spat. The mere mention of Dumbledore, in derogatory terms or not, caused anger to flare inside him.

Uncle Vernon's eyes opened again. Aunt Petunia however stood up. Harry looked at her.

"He's dead?" she asked quietly.

Harry opened his mouth, and then decided that he did not want to discuss this. It was stupid to have thought that telling the Dursleys would be easy, so he turned on his heel and walked back to the stairs.

"I'm talking to you!" Aunt Petunia shouted.

"About bloody time!" Dudley chuckled triumphantly.

"I _always _said," Uncle Vernon began, "_always, _that those … those _magic _folk would come to the same sticky end, just goes to show, doesn't it?"

Harry stopped on the second stair, turned and stood in the doorway. He had lost his temper.

"You want to know what happened? OK, I'll tell you! Dumbledore was murdered because of Lord Voldemort, just like my godfather was, just like both my parents were. I am the only person in the world that can finish him. I am the only person in the world who can kill him, who can stop this war that we're all in the middle of, even you!"

The Dursleys looked suddenly shocked, stunned, their mouths open. Uncle Vernon shook his head again. "Not all that rubbish about that Lord Thingy again? We've had all this before you know! We know how you exaggerate just to scare us!"

Harry laughed harshly. "You think that all these things happening at the moment are _normal_? They're not! They're all because of _him! _Murders, explosions, massacres, it won't stop!"

"What do you mean?" Aunt Petunia, white faced, asked him, her hands gripping the sugar bowl in front of her.

"YOU HAVE NO IDEA, NONE OF YOU!" And suddenly, he was yelling. The pent up anger of sixteen years at the people who had made his life hell was fuelling him and nothing else. "WHAT I'VE BEEN THROUGH, WHAT'S HAPPENED TO ME THESE PAST YEARS, BECAUSE YOU NEVER BOTHERED TO ASK! I'VE LOST EVERYTHING! I'VE GOT NO WAY OUT! MY LIFE IS LEADING UP TO, OR WILL PROBABLY END IN MURDER, AND IF I DON'T WIN THIS, WE'LL ALL DIE! AND YOU ASK ME IF I'M JOKING? YOU – YOU …"

It all became too much. Yelling at the Dursleys for their complete ignorance was no longer sufficient. The magnitude of what he had to do started to sink in, and Harry found that he could not be around them anymore. Turning once more, he ran up the stairs and slammed his bedroom door.

Harry had sat on his bed for the last time, calming himself before he left. It wouldn't help him if he tried to Apparate for the first time with his licence if he was pulsing with anger. He'd probably end up in North Africa.

But no sooner had he checked everything, making sure he had left no socks under the bed, no photos in the drawers, that there was a knock on his door.

Not in the mood for any more conversation, Harry grabbed his trunk, ready to push his way down the stairs when he opened the door. It was Aunt Petunia. She was standing there looking as though she was not entirely sure that she should be there.

"What do you want?" he spat at her, having not gotten rid of all of his frustration.

She had an odd expression on her face, like none Harry had ever seen. It was softer, almost sympathetic. His anger abated slightly.

"I just came … I came to wish you luck," she said quietly, so that Harry was certain he had misheard her.

"Sorry?" he said, frowning.

She came into his room and sunk down on the end of the bed. Harry was lost for words.

"I think I know what you have to do," she began. "You have to kill the … the one who killed Lily and James."

Harry stared. He had never heard her use either of their names before.

"Figured it out, did you?" he said. He was not completely free of anger yet. "Congratulations. You win the prize. Now leave me alone."

Aunt Petunia lowered her head. "I'm sorry, for the way things turned out. I really am. I suppose I never really thought that they'd leave you here, when you turned up on the doorstep that morning. I know it never got any better, but it was because … well I hated her so much!" she finished, on a particularly high, shrill note.

"This isn't helping," Harry said through clenched teeth. "And why did you hate her?"

"Because they loved her more than they loved me," she said simply. "Your grandparents, I mean. I suppose … I just wanted you to know what it felt like."

"Well thanks. I got the message," Harry said bitterly, surprised by her honesty, and went to leave.

"Harry, wait," and Harry stopped with his hand on the door. "When she died … I was angry with her. Angry that we'd never sorted it out, and I know I took it out on you." Harry said nothing. "But you should know that … I did love my sister."

Harry looked at the floor. Aunt Petunia had never before spoken so openly before him, and, though her emotion was unsettling, it didn't mean what it would have meant a year ago.

"You know I can never forgive you," he said simply. "There's just too much going on now in my life now for your justification to mean anything." He went to leave, and then stopped again, looking back at her. "I guess I kind of knew that the way you treated me was a punishment meant for someone else, but to be honest, I didn't know any different, so I didn't dwell on it."

"I know," she answered. "I know you can't forgive. But if you're going to do what I think you are, then I had to say good luck. Because, whatever you might think, I … I don't want you to die."

Harry stood there for a few moments, before swallowing. He turned his back and dragged his trunk behind him, but called back before he descended the stairs.

"Thanks."

As he reached the front door and pushed it open, he heard Uncle Vernon's voice from the living room.

"Bye, then!" he called cheerfully. Harry could tell from his sarcastic tone that his uncle thought that this was all a big joke that Harry had cooked up and his lack of interest was to try and make Harry feel like he wasn't in the least bothered about his nephew. But Harry thought, with a jolt to his stomach, that soon, one way or another, he would know that it wasn't a joke.

With fear twisting uncomfortably at his insides, Harry left the place that he had loathed for so long, and had often been loathed in return, but had nevertheless given him protection since the age of one. Now, at seventeen, Harry was painfully aware that this period of his life had ended. With the cold night air stabbing at his lungs, he prepared himself for the Apparition to The Burrow, and the journey away from safety. With one final look behind him, Harry stepped into a sharp spin and vanished.

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**A/N: **See that little review box to your left? Yes? That's it, press it! 


	2. Premarital Mishaps

_**MARKED**_

Summary:

This fiction is set directly after Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince (HBP) and will therefore unsurprisingly contain HBP spoilers. Harry returns to the Dursleys for the final time before embarking on the adventure of a lifetime – a lifetime which may very possibly end – if he loses.

**A/N: **Hey faithful reviewers - thanks for all your comments. Here is the next chapter. I said it'd be fast!

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_ Fleurleft the room. _

"_So … it's been fun then?" Harry said._

_Bill pushed Ron's jaw up back into its original position before cuffing him around the head._

"_You have no idea," said Hermione icily._

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**TWO: Pre-marital Mishaps**

It was coming up to dusk at The Burrow. The chickens were clucking peacefully around the yard, the birds were twittering softly in the large oak trees in the orchard … and Mrs Weasley was waving a rubber chicken at her two twin sons Fred and George like a sword, its head flapping uselessly.

"Third one this week! Cropping up all over the place – I won't have it, you two, I won't!" she bellowed, red patches appearing on her cheeks. "Just because you're earning money now doesn't mean you –"

"– All right, all right, mum!" Fred cried in a pacifying tone. "It wasn't meant for you, anyway."

"I would have thought that you'd have at least matured a bit! Adults now, with your own business –"

"– Mum, we run a _joke shop_," said George sarcastically.

"Yes, and that's exactly the reason why – _Oh my goodness!"_ she cried, for somebody had just appeared out of thin air into the kitchen with a large _crack. _

"_Harry!" _

"Hello, Mrs Weasley," said Harry breathlessly, clutching his trunk in one hand and a large box in the other. "Sorry to startle you."

"Not at all, dear, not at all!" she cried in a motherly fashion, taking the box out of his hands and hugging him profusely. "You two," she added, poking the twins in the chest, "you can take his trunk up to Ron's room."

"Oh right!" chuckled Fred sarcastically. "House elves now, are we?"

Mrs Weasley threw the rubber chicken at them.

As they passed Harry they clapped him on the back, "You all right mate?" Fred muttered.

"Yeah," Harry replied, laughing in spite of himself at Fred's mutinous glare back at his mother. George nodded, concealing a smile, and they both disappeared out of the room and Harry eventually heard the dull clunk of them thumping up the wooden staircase overhead.

"How are you, dear?" Mrs Weasley asked affectionately, brushing his hair out of his face. "You look like you could do with a few square meals whilst you're here."

"I'm OK," said Harry. "Thanks for having me, now it's so hectic with the wedding and all," he added, looking around at the various boxes of bits and pieces needed for Bill and Fleur's big day.

"Don't be silly," she snapped. "You're family. You, not be here? I wouldn't have had it any other way! And neither would Fleur or Bill," she said, looking at him fondly. "Are you sure you're all right, my love?"

"Yeah," Harry said truthfully. "It wasn't easy, leaving the Dursleys'. They wanted to know why, and … well. I told them. It was hard to keep my temper."

"Oh, Harry," Mrs Weasley said concernedly. "Listen," she began, fixing him with a maternal eye and putting both hands on his shoulders. "Right now is the time where you must think of nothing at all to do with … well, you know. Ron's told me what you're all planning to do, and … even if I do think it's a bit _dangerous_, I know you have to do it. But right now, you must … relax a bit. We'll look after you – legally an adult or not!"

Harry didn't know how to express in words how much it meant to him that she cared for him like she were his mother. He felt his throat constrict as took her hands off his shoulders, and kissed her on the cheek before saying, "Thanks, Mrs Weasley."

"Oh for goodness sake," she said distractedly, wiping her eyes on the nearest tea towel. "Now you must go upstairs and see Ron and Hermione. They've been beside themselves ever since you left each other coming off the train. I think Hermione is in Ginny's room, with Fleur. They should be trying on the bridesmaid dresses. Ron will be with Bill I'd expect. Go on!"

Harry smiled at her one last time before leaving the room.

**- - - - - -**

He heard Ron's voice when he was halfway up the winding rickety staircase. It was coming from a room off the landing that Harry had never been in. He supposed it must be Bill's room – Ron's was right at the top of the house underneath the attic and the noisy, family ghoul.

"_No, no that sounds rubbish,"_ he could hear; Ron sounded very animated.

Harry pushed open the door. There was his best friend, tall and gangly with thousands of freckles, Ron Weasley had grown even more if it were at all possible. He rose from the tiny chair he was sat on.

"Harry! I didn't hear you!" he moved towards his best friend. They went to shake hands, and Ron inclined his head.

"Don't be such a tough guy, give me some love" Ron said, and pulled Harry into a brief, one armed hug.

Harry chuckled. "Hi, Bill," he said over Ron's shoulder. Bill got up a little more slowly than Ron had, obviously not completely recovered from his previous and very grisly attack from the infamous Greyback, a vicious werewolf who was notorious for his merciless assaults on adults and children alike.

"All right, Harry?" he said warmly, grasping Harry's hand. His face still noticeably bore the scars of his encounter, but Harry could tell that Bill was focusing everything he had on acting as though all was as normal as it had been before when he and Fleur had become engaged.

"Ron's just helping me with my speech," Bill explained, which accounted for Ron's animation before.

"He needs it, believe me!" said Ron, turning to Harry. "_Love will bring us all together in these turbulent times, of that I'm sure, and so is Fleur … _the kind of stuff that makes you want to find the nearest bucket and empty your stomach, you know?"

Harry did his very best to keep a straight face. It felt wonderful to be able to smile again. He hadn't done much of it since Dumbledore's death.

"Yeah, all right, Ron," said Bill, offended. "I'm no good at this stuff. Fancy helping Harry?" Bill asked.

"Yeah, sure!" said Harry, glad to help. "It's a good match. If you've got the sickly stuff, Ron's got the sensitivity of a warthog, and I'm –"

Harry broke off in mid-sentence as there was a shriek from the doorway. His vision was obscured by a lot of brown hair as Hermione ran towards Harry and threw her arms around his neck.

"Let the man breathe," said Ron, glancing at the pair of them. "You never hug me like that," he added quietly. Hermione threw him a reproachful look.

"Oh, Harry, it's so good to see you, we haven't stopped thinking about you, and oh how did it go, with your aunt and uncle? I'll bet you couldn't wait to be out of there, could you? We've missed you so much –"

"He's only been gone a few months, Hermione," Ron reminded her, a wry smile on his lips. "_Needy, _I tell you."

Hermione let go of him. Harry grinned at her, touched by the sudden upsurge of affection.

"I know," she said. "But it's good to see you."

"The feeling's mutual," said Harry darkly, his smile fading. "If I hadn't left the Dursleys when I did, I might have murdered them in their sleep –"

But he broke off in mid-sentence as Ginny stood framed in the doorway. The sudden and awkward look on her face told Harry that she had also not heard him arrive.

She was dressed in a beautiful, pale gold dress which fell to her feet and came down low just off her pale shoulders. Her hair was as vibrant as ever but her eyes had lost the disarming sparkle Harry had been so used to. He had planned the moment when he knew they would inevitably meet again at The Burrow, but the sight of her standing before him drove all plans made clear out of his head. Feelings came rushing back and it took all of his strength not to continue staring.

Ron cleared his throat and Harry jerked back to his senses.

"Hi," he said quietly.

"Hello," she replied in a small voice, a thin smile on her lips. There was an awkward pause. Ginny looked at the floor, and then back at Harry, not quite meeting his eyes. "Do you like it, then?" she asked him in a cheerily bright voice, signalling to her dress.

Harry swallowed, suddenly feeling very much like he was on the spot. "It's … it's er – it's beautiful."

"Thanks," Ginny said. She turned to Hermione. "Phlegm was just saying your hem needs to go up a few inches, Hermione. And please do what she says," she added pleadingly. "She's driving me batty," and left the room leaving a silence in her absence.

Hermione cleared her throat as well. "I'm wearing it too," she added to Harry, a slight edge to her voice.

Harry turned and looked. She was quite right – Hermione too was dressed in the pale gold attire and, now he looked, she did look quite stunning. Harry covered his tracks with some fast thinking.

"You grabbed me!" he spluttered. "I didn't see it until she came in," he said. But Harry was spared any more embarrassment as, for the second time that evening, somebody ran into the room and threw their arms around him.

It was Fleur.

"'Arry!" she exclaimed in her melodious voice. "Eet ees so good to see you! 'Ow arr you?"

"Fine thanks, Fleur," Harry replied, reddening as she kissed him on both cheeks. "How's the wedding plans going?" he asked, glancing at Hermione who looked less than ecstatic to see the beautiful Fleur, her silver hair fanning out behind her even though there was no wind in the room.

"Oh, everything is seemply _perfect,_" she said, clasping her hands together. "Only a few days, and Bill and I shall be 'usband and wife! We 'av decided to 'av zee ceremony in zee orchard 'ere," she went on, eager to tell anybody who would listen it seemed, "because 'eet looks much nicer zan I imagined. We 'av ordered flowers, and archways and I am 'oping zee weather will be kind!"

Harry nodded. Ron was silently staring at Fleur, his eyes out of focus and Hermione had a crease between her brows.

"Oh, and 'Arry, I 'ave your bottle green robes ordered from zee store, they will look magnificent with your eyes!"

And with that, she swept her hair behind her and left the room. Harry looked at Bill, Ron and Hermione.

"So … it's been fun then?" Harry said.

Bill moved over to Ron and pushed his jaw up back into its original position before cuffing him around the head.

"You have no idea," said Hermione icily.

**- - - - - -**

The evening before the wedding day was eventful. Late things arrived by owl post – some so big it took at least four owls to carry them between them. One such item was the trellis archway which flew into the orchard and was dropped unceremoniously by a bunch of tired owls before they flew off again. More and more flowers arrived as the day drew on, so that by evening, Harry had the distinct impression that Fleur was starting a florist shop.

All the dresses had arrived, all the suits and Harry and Ron's robes. Ron would also be wearing green; something which he explained to Harry that evening.

"Mum got two for the price of one in Madam Malkins," he said, ears reddening. "It's an expensive business, this wedding malarkey. Dad's been doing shifts night and day at the Ministry."

Harry looked down. "You know, I would have given you some if –"

"- I know," said Ron.

"So your dad's been working hard, has he? No trouble with Rufus Scrimgeour?"

Ron shook his head. "Nah. After that Christmas when you told him where to go he's been steering out of dad's way most of the time. Knows a lost cause when he sees one, I s'pose. Plus dad's not really had much to do with him – their offices are on opposite sides of the building."

Harry remembered back to when he had accompanied Mr Weasley to the Ministry of Magic two years ago when he had been due at a Hearing for his illegal use of magic at the Dursleys'. He hoped that Mr Weasley's promotion since had earned him a bigger office than the broom cupboard he and Perkins had previously occupied.

Dinner than evening was to be had out in the garden as some people arrived in the late afternoon to stay over before the wedding in the morning and Mrs Weasley simply didn't have enough room to fit everybody in the kitchen.

Amongst them was Remus Lupin who was hand in hand with Tonks; Harry assumed they must have since come to some agreement that Lupin was neither too old nor too dangerous for Tonks. She didn't seem to think so at least; the wide grin on her face and her bubble-gum pink hair told Harry as much, and she swept him into a huge hug when she saw him. Arriving the nest day, to Harry's astonishment, would be Professors McGonagall, Sprout, Flitwick, Madame Pomfrey and Hagrid, who Harry would be immensely pleased to see. Mr Weasley came home after everyone had arrived, ashen faced and looking exhausted, but smiled nonetheless and wrung Harry's hand at the dinner table.

"Thirty-six hour shift, Harry," explained Mr Weasley, when Harry asked him if he was all right. "Had five different cases in six hours, if you can imagine. Some stuff that upon first glance might have seemed harmless, you know, Muggle baiting, but we reckon there might have been some Death Eaters behind it all. A house salesman only this morning, what do you call them … S_tate Pageants?_"

"Estate Agents," Harry supplied.

"Yes, them. Well, somebody, a wizard no doubt, was posing as one of those and sold some unsuspecting Muggles a talking house."

Fred choked on his mashed potatoes for laughing. "_A talking house?"_ he asked incredulously.

"It's not funny, Fred. You can imagine – after they get over their initial shock, what on earth was it saying to them? How can we be sure that the house wasn't trying to brainwash them into doing something dangerous?"

Fred's smile faded.

Harry leant across his plate of roast beef. "So you think that it might have something to do with Voldemort –"

"– Don't say his name."

"Sorry."

Mr Weasley mopped his brow with his napkin. "At worst, yes. It may be a new ploy, of course, like recruiting Muggles. That's something we haven't heard of before. You can only imagine how dangerous that would be to everyone. I shall have to speak to Scrimgeour about this, sooner or later, against my better judgement. The Order has already been alerted, of course."

Harry thought briefly how dangerous it would be if Muggles were turned against the Wizarding community, onto Voldemort's side. Particularly if he used the Imperious Curse … well, it really would be impossible to tell who you could trust and who you couldn't … the whole world was suspicious …

Harry found that this thought hurt his head, so he allowed Lupin to engage Mr Weasley in a conversation about goblins before turning his head to see what the others were laughing about.

"So he says, 'have you got any of those left?' Didn't he, Fred?" George was saying to Fred.

"Any of what?" asked Ron curiously as both twins burst into laughter.

"The Patented Daydream Charms. Wanted to know if you could …_ refine _them."

"Well, of course you can," George was saying. "But we weren't going to tell him that until we'd heard what he wanted."

"Who was it?" asked Harry. Ginny looked up quickly as she saw him join the conversation and then averted her eyes, determinedly not looking at him. Harry chose not to react to this.

"No, no, wait. Hear the best bit before you know who it is," Fred guffawed.

"– So, then we say 'what did you have in mind, sir?"

"Well he fidgeted and looked around him, and then said 'you know, it doesn't really matter,' but we said 'sir, everything said in this shop is confidential."

"Oh, you _toads_," muttered Hermione, but Ron was nearly wetting himself with laughter. "You can't do that," Hermione went on. "It's all part of customer confidentiality. Muggle shops have that rule too. You could really get into trouble, you know …"

"_Anyway," _George went on with a disbelieving look at Hermione. "He turns around and says, 'I want something with a girl in it.'"

"Well we knew he'd say that, but this is what we weren't prepared for – go on, George," finished Fred.

"We asked him what kind of girl, and (this took a while, by the way) he eventually said, 'well, it's a ghost.'"

Fred appeared unable to restrain himself because he jumped back into the story. "Whilst we got over our initial instinct to choke on our laughter, we said, 'if you give us a name, we can make it even more lifelike …'"

Ron looked like he was about to be sick. "It _wasn't_ … not –"

"– _Moaning Myrtle!_ That's what he said!" the twins chorused.

Nearly everyone, including Hermione, burst out laughing.

"That's not the best part!" George gasped.

"It was only _Colin Creevy!_" Fred spat, spraying pumpkin juice all over Ginny.

Harry passed her a cloth.

"Oh, bless him," Hermione said. "That's a bit … _odd._"

"_Odd? _He's a bloody nutcase!" said Ron. "Myrtle was a right troll when she was alive, but _dead!_"

"Well, she was nice … in her day," Hermione went on, "and … and I'm sure she was very clever."

"Yeah, well I like a girl that's clever, but that doesn't mean –"

He broke off, suddenly very embarrassed. Hermione too, Harry noticed, began eating bread rather quickly. He was watching them too intently to stop himself in time from touching Ginny's hand as he passed the napkin. A glance shot between them and Harry felt his heart race. Ginny let go of the napkin extremely quickly.

Hermione noticed that something had just occurred, as she looked curiously at Harry. Fred and George hadn't seemed to have noticed, and they ploughed on with the topic.

"So, little Colin Creevy's a bit of a dark horse then, eh? Who'd have known he was such a little man-whore?"

Hermione looked scandalised. "A _what? _Excuse me?"

George chuckled. "Oh come on, if you want to know what _that _is, you'll have to ask Ginny. She met plenty last year – is it still Dean Thomas?"

Ginny turned to look at George, and he received a piercing glare. She then turned her head to Harry as though she couldn't think what to say, who opened his mouth to speak, and then found he couldn't.

"Excuse me," she said, putting her napkin down on the table and with that, she left.

Everyone who was not Ron and Hermione stared after her, confused. George looked at Fred and Charlie (a few seats down) bewildered. They clearly had not been told by anybody about Harry and Ginny.

"What did I say?"

But the look on Harry's face was enough. There was a slight pause.

"_Oh_."

Harry went to rise from his chair, to go after her, to explain once more, but Hermione beat him to it.

"I'll go," and she left an uneasy silence in her absence.

Fred and George looked extremely uncomfortable, but faked cheery smiles, changing conversation topic at the speed of light.

"So, anyway, best not to spread around that whole Moaning Myrtle thing. We might get in trouble, you know …"

And the chatter sprung up again.

Even so, an uneasy feeling within Harry's chest was telling him that perhaps leaving things as they were with Ginny was going to be a darn sight more difficult than he had anticipated.

**- - - - - -**

* * *

**A/N: **OK, I could beg for reviews, but that'd be sad. please.


	3. At The End of The Aisle

_**MARKED**_

Summary:

This fiction is set directly after Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince (HBP) and will therefore unsurprisingly contain HBP spoilers. Harry returns to the Dursleys for the final time before embarking on the adventure of a lifetime – a lifetime which may very possibly end – if he loses.

* * *

"_Do you love her?" Bill asked quietly._

"_I don't know," Harry answered truthfully._

_

* * *

_

**THREE: At The End of The Aisle**

The next day, Harry found himself almost as nervous as Fleur. He couldn't really explain why this was, but feeling part of the family had given him a strange longing for everything to go all right.

He and Ron had gotten up at the crack of dawn, shaken awake by a harassed looking Mrs Weasley before she disappeared again. They dressed groggily, and collided with a lot of people on the stairs.

Ginny was one, who came out of her room, red in the face, balling her fists. Hermione's pacifying tones could be heard from within the room along with Fleur's impatient tusking, and Ginny looked anything but calm.

"That's it!" she hissed to Harry and Ron as they came along the landing. "I can't take it anymore! Her dress is fine, I tell you. _Fine!_ Who cares about one bloody crease?"

Harry laughed, but Ron looked shifty.

"We'd best get out of here, you know," he muttered. "Girls in high tempers – we don't want to get in the way."

They went to walk away but Ginny, resembling her mother slightly, hissed at them again.

"You're really going to leave me with her?" she said, almost upsetting her hair, which was twisted up into an elegant knot at the back of her head with a few curls coming down about her shoulders. "It's a nightmare! And I can't – get – this – bloody –_zip_ – _done_ – _up_!" she said, tugging at something on her back.

"Careful, you'll rip it!" Harry said quickly.

"Well, somebody help me, then," she said turning around, flustered. Harry turned to look at Ron, who was looking at him equally expectant. There was a beat, and then –

"You know, I'm just going to go and see if er – if Bill needs any help …" Harry lied, and strode off quickly down the next flight of stairs, leaving Ron to help Ginny.

As he descended the steps he thought angrily to himself, _what was she playing at? Is she trying to make this harder? _Or maybe she was just trying to be normal. It was just a zip. _But can't she see how hard this is? I'm trying to keep it as it is … _maybe you don't want to … _no! You decided – it was for the best …_

He found himself outside Bill's room quicker than he had anticipated. With no choice, he knocked softly.

"Come in."

Harry pushed the door open and found Fred, George and Charlie brushing off Bill's suit much more vigorously than was needed. As George gave a particularly hard brush, Bill went sprawling on the bed. They all roared with laughter.

"Hey, Harry, give us a hand. We're brushing him down," Fred said laughing.

"Cut it out, you three. Harry, save me," Bill wailed, looking at his reflection in the mirror. "Well, at least it fits."

"Yeah, unlike ours," muttered Fred and George. Harry looked and saw that their sleeves were far too short.

Harry glanced at the wands in their pockets. "Couldn't you fix them?" he asked.

The twins grinned evilly. "Oh, no, we don't think so. See, we like them like this."

Harry shook his head. "Rather you than me. It's murder up there. Ginny was practically in tears when we were coming downstairs."

"Right," said Charlie standing up. "I'm going to have some breakfast before the mob arrives. And by that, Bill, I mean your fiancé's family. There might be more Veela, so you two especially," he said, prodding Fred and George in the chest, "watch yourselves."

The twins followed suit, mumbling something about having 'not been properly fed in months because there were always so many people staying at their house.' They shut the door behind them.

Harry sat down on Bill's bed. "Nervous, then?"

Bill looked at him. "A bit," he said, straightening his tie. "But I love her, so … yeah. I'm really nervous."

Harry forced a smile.

Bill looked at him again. "Harry, can I ask you something?"

Harry hesitated. He hadn't really had an in-depth conversation with Bill before. "OK," he said.

Bill contemplated. "Were you and Ginny … you know, an item?"

Harry blinked. He didn't know whether to lie or not. Bill was her older brother, and he might be a little protective. Bill however seemed to guess what he was thinking.

"It's all right, you know, I'm not going to deck you," he smirked.

Harry exhaled slightly. "How did you know?" he asked.

Bill shrugged. "Well I suppose to everyone who isn't you, it was kind of obvious. Ginny's been acting a bit odd, you know, sort of falsely cheery – especially when you're around. I could tell from the way that Ron and Hermione kept looking between the pair of you, too."

Harry nodded. He didn't know what he was supposed to say.

"So, er, what happened?" asked Bill. Before Harry opened his mouth he added, "We don't have to go into this, if you don't want to, you just looked like you needed someone to talk to."

So Harry told him. He told him about how he had been the last one to know that he had feelings for Ginny and how they had come together and how it had been the best few weeks of his life, how Dumbledore's death had awoken a knowledge within him that he should have really known since he was twelve years old – when Ginny had been taken by Tom Riddle – and that he had told her that he couldn't see her anymore.

"That must've taken some thought. How did she take it?" asked Bill.

"OK," said Harry. "Well, she said she didn't care about Voldemort, but I knew she'd say that," and he remembered, vividly, that determined glare she had given him that day, which told him that he would always be the one, now she knew he felt the same.

Bill nodded. "That was a very noble thing you did there, Harry."

Harry shook his head. "No, it wasn't. It was cowardly. She didn't care, and neither should I."

"But you're right. Imagine if You Know Who found out. She'd be dead within the hour."

Harry sighed. "I know."

"But it's going to be hard, going back to normal. There'll be times when it seems like it was before and you'll forget, and then you'll kick yourself time and time again."

Harry said nothing. He knew what Bill was talking about because it had happened at least twice in the past few days.

"Do you love her?" Bill asked quietly.

"I don't know," Harry answered truthfully.

"I won't say you can't fall in love when you're seventeen, because … well. That'd make me a bit of a hypocrite."

Harry half-smiled.

Bill stood up. "Well, you're a man now, Harry. You do what you think is best."

Harry nodded and shook Bill's hand. "Thanks, Bill."

"Don't mention it. You know, Charlie's right. We _should_ go and have breakfast now. If too many Veela come in and I go all gooey, the wedding could be off."

- - - - - -

Having spoken to Bill had made Harry feel a little better – and it was odd that it hadn't been Ron or Hermione that he had confided in. He supposed it would have been harder talking to them because they both knew him so well.

As midday approached, more guests arrived. All Hogwarts staff arrived together, and Harry nearly didn't recognise them – he had never seen them in wedding attire. Hagrid however you couldn't miss. He was wearing his brown hairy suit and orange tie but somehow his hair looked different – it seemed to be flatter and, as he turned, it was noticeable that it was in a very neat plait. Everyone was spared wondering how he had achieved this amazing feat, as stood next to him was the biggest woman you would ever see – Madame Maxime – and she was licking her hand and flattening Hagrid's hair every few minutes.

Professors Sprout and Flitwick greeted Harry jovially. Flitwick wrung his hand and said how good it was to see him whereas Professor Sprout actually hugged him. Harry couldn't see much when she did as she was rather fat, but distinctly heard her say "It's such an honour to be invited … young Bill – he used to be so little!" And she went away, blowing her nose on her handkerchief.

Professor McGonagall was a little more reserved. "Hello, Potter," she said rather stiffly, as though being dressed in a lilac frock and hat was causing her great discomfort. Harry saw, close to, that she looked a lot older; there were more lines around her eyes which in turn had bags under them. She looked worn and thin and Harry suspected that, like him, she had taken Dumbledore's death hard.

"Hello, Professor," Harry replied. "Is there a new Head teacher for Hogwarts yet?" he asked, faintly interested. Even though he was not intending to return he still ached inside at the thought of the beloved castle that had been his real home ever since he had found out he was a wizard.

"No, not much luck I am afraid. I shall be filling in until we do – the school must stay open, as you know the governors decided. But I daresay you'll hear more about it when you come back, Potter."

Harry's insides squirmed. He knew he would have to tell her sooner or later. But not today. Instead he smiled and said, "I look forward to it, Professor."

Fleur's family were perhaps even more beautiful than she. A woman who could only be her mother was not a Veela (they knew this because Ron at least got away with minimal drool) and many other silver haired people who seemed to waft about the orchard, commenting on how beautiful everything looked and enchanting everyone with their ethereal voices. Fleur's little sister Gabrielle raced up to Harry and Ron, hugging them around the middle before racing off back to her parents, a grin on her face. She was the mirror image of a miniature Fleur with her long silvery hair and blue/grey eyes, which told everyone plainly that she too would grow up to be a great beauty.

The orchard did look striking. The hedges had been draped with vine-like delicate flowers and gave the impression of a riot of colour. The wicker trellis' formed archways and set out the route of what would act as the aisle whilst at least forty white chairs had been set out under the largest arch, which was stood just in front of the herb garden, so the tantalising scent of jasmine and basil would occasionally waft through.

Further along and nearer the house stood an extremely long table, groaning under the weight of Mrs Weasley's fantastic cooking – from where he stood with Ron, Hermione and the other Weasley children, Harry could see plates and plates of roast beef, chicken, joints of pork with boiled, roasted and baked potatoes, tureens of vegetables, multi-coloured sauces, rice and, perched in the middle with prime position, an enormous wedding cake with two little moving figures on top, resembling Bill and Fleur.

As the guests took their seats, Harry saw Fleur come out of the house. He couldn't help it – his jaw dropped, and so did everyone else's. She looked incredible – her dress was gleaming white and appeared to be made of a light and floaty material; the veil came gracefully over her face, and her silver hair was again fanning out behind her. Bill looked like he had just won a million galleons. An old white haired but equally refined man (whom Harry could only assume was her father) held Fleur's arm as he led her down the aisle. Instantly, music was sounded. As Harry turned, he saw a group of wood nymphs he had not noticed playing softly on woodwind instruments – the sound they generated was enchanting.

Gabrielle moved behind Fleur, holding her dress behind her. Bill was waiting under the arch with a wizened looking old man who had to be the wizard vicar – he wore a soft grey robe and had a little sheath for his want just above his roped belt. He smiled kindly at them all.

Ron and Hermione led the way, arm in arm, behind Gabrielle. Fred and George followed, looking odd arm in arm as Ron and Hermione were, but beaming all the same. Charlie followed with Mrs Weasleys, clutching a hankie to her mouth … which left Harry and Ginny.

He looked sideways at her and spoke softly.

"Walk with me?"

Without another word, she took his arm and they followed the party, who gradually took their seats. Then the vicar spoke as a hush came over the guests and the ceremony began.

**- - - - - - **

If the Weasley twins knew how to entertain at Hogwarts then they pulled all the stops out for the after party in the garden. The nymphs were now playing a more upbeat tune, and sounds of raucous laughter could be heard from Fleur's family as Fred and George engaged them in a few of their favourite stories.

With the food received gratefully, it was all going perfectly – until Percy Weasley turned up.

Heads turned quickly in his direction; whispers came from all around the table. Even the Delacours', who did not know who he was, could tell from the Weasley's expressions and the particularly loud muttering coming from Hagrid (who had three chairs to himself) that he was someone who was not welcome.

Mr Weasley stood up. "What do you want?" he said sharply.

Percy looked around at them all, an odd expression on his face. Dusk was fast approaching now and the shadows from the hedges cast dark lines on his anxious face.

"Well?" George spat, having also stood up.

" … I just wanted to come – and say … congratulations to Bill – and Fleur," he said in a small voice.

Fred shook his head disbelievingly. Mrs Weasley looked terrified.

"And to apologise … to everyone," he added.

Everyone was looking at him.

"Oh, really?" Charlie said.

"Well come on, then," Ron said with an ugly expression on his face as the stony silence escalated. "We're all waiting."

Percy walked up to his father, who did not take a step back.

"Father, I'm sorry for what I said the year before last. I was angry that you thought I got my promotion just because of Fudge wanting to spy on the family and … well, I knew you were right. I didn't mean what I said, and it was wrong … I had just wanted you to be pleased for me … but I soon came to see that Fudge was wrong, and – and Harry was right."

Percy moved around his father and came to face Harry who was sitting with Hermione and Ginny. Still all eyes were on him. Even the band had stopped playing.

"Harry, I hope you can accept my apology. I understand if you don't, because you must have thought that we were friends. There is no justifying how I turned against you with the Ministry and … I'm sorry I ever doubted you. I should have trusted my family, and you."

He held out his hand. It seemed that people waited with baited breath. Harry didn't know what to do – it was true Percy had been part of the persecution he had endured over the last two years, and yet he was Ron's brother, standing here, looking as sincere as though he really meant it …

Harry shook his hand.

"It's OK," he said.

Chatter broke out again, softly.

There was a sudden break in the ranks and Mrs Weasley surged forwards and threw her arms around Percy's neck.

"Oh, Percy!" she cried, sobbing. Percy hugged her back.

"I'm sorry to you most of all, mother," Percy whispered, but Harry heard him.

The band struck up again, and there was a great deal of awkward hand-shaking going on. The twins did so without fuss, but a look in their eyes told everyone that they had not quite buried the hatchet just yet and were only playing nice for the sake of the wedding and the family. Harry saw Mr Weasley and Percy embrace, with Mr Weasley whispering, "It's good to have my son back again."

The upshot of it was, when Percy told his story to them as the party livened up once more, that Rufus Scrimgeour had once again told Percy that he had wanted to speak to Harry. Since Dumbledore's death Percy told them that there had been real panic within the Ministry and no-one seemed to really know what to do. Scrimgeour was apparently still hung up on public opinion and when Percy had suggested they leave Harry to get on with whatever it was that he and Dumbledore had discussed and stop the witch-hunt, Scrimgeour had lost his temper, claiming that it should be the Ministry that dealt with Voldemort, not some arrogant teenager. Percy had left the Ministry that night.

"So, father, you'd best be careful of him. He doesn't know I'm here, but I expect you'll be his next direct route to Harry."

"Mr Weasley nodded. "Yes, I expected as much."

"Well, there's nothing we can do about that now," said Lupin thoughtfully. "What's done is done, and we should be glad we have one of our number back."

People had all returned to the great table now and were either finishing their puddings or becoming red in the face with wine and champagne. Hagrid was speaking louder and louder, and even Professor McGonagall had taken her hair out of its tight bun as Professor Flitwick poured her more mead.

They were all sitting there happily now, Harry thought. The wedding itself was over; he knew he would soon have no excuse for staying. With them all in one place, this was the perfect time to do it. Still his heart was hammering as he stood up and tapped his glass with his fork. Ginny looked up at him fearfully and pulled his sleeve.

"Don't," she whispered.

"I have to," Harry answered, and cleared his throat. "Um … everyone? Listen up."

They all slowly began to hush and turned to look at him. Ginny stood up and walked away from the table towards the herb garden.

"There's something I'd like to say."

**- - - - - -

* * *

****A/N: **And … great timing, Harry, wouldn't you say? Lol – read on and review to find out what he says and how everyone takes it … please!

Rosie x x x


	4. Away From Childhood

_**MARKED**_

Summary:

This fiction is set directly after Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince (HBP) and will therefore unsurprisingly contain HBP spoilers. Harry returns to the Dursleys for the final time before embarking on the adventure of a lifetime – a lifetime which may very possibly end – if he loses.

"_Maybe I should start calling him Lord Chuckles. It'd lighten things up a bit, wouldn't it?"_

**FOUR: Away From Childhood**

Once again, as it had done when Percy had arrived, a hush fell over the company at the table, but it was a more relaxed, sleepy hush as many continued to fill up their glasses with mead – Hagrid in particular.

Harry cleared his throat.

"Firstly, I know that er, you might not all have expected a speech from me, but I just wanted to say," he plunged on, turning his head to Bill and Fleur whose hands were entwined on top of the table, "that I'm sure everyone will join me in wishing Bill and Fleur a long and happy marriage."

Everyone nodded in agreement and raised their glasses.

"I can't tell you all how nice it is to be able to celebrate something good in times like this …" Harry went on, "and to know that something as simple as this can make us all so happy, so …" he raised his glass. "To Bill and Fleur."

Everyone chorused "_to Bill and Fleur" _and drank deeply. Fleur was beaming up at Harry and Mrs Weasley yet again wiped her eyes.

Harry waited for the good natured chatter to die down again before he continued.

"The other thing that I have to say is … less than celebratory, I guess. Um … I'm saying this now because it's something everyone here should know."

Lupin lowered his goblet cautiously, Tonks looked up at him curiously and Professor McGonagall's mouth had become a thin line, a frown on her face.

They were all looking at him … "You see … I'm … I'm going away – tomorrow actually."

There was an instant questioning rumble which ran the length of the table but as Harry went to speak again it died down.

"For how long?" came Lupin's voice.

"I'm not sure … and not being able to say means that …" He turned to McGonagall. "I won't be returning to Hogwarts this year," he said, unable to hide the trace of unmistakable sadness in his face and his voice.

McGonagall opened her mouth and closed it again before saying, "What on earth do you mean, Potter? _Not returning_?" She sounded stern once more, angry almost – back to herself as Harry had known her.

Harry swallowed. "Some of you – well, _all _of you will have heard rumours about the Prophecy." There was an instant hush and it seemed as though everyone had just held their breath.

"Without going into detail – for obvious reasons, it means that there are some things that I have to do – and I can't really do them here."

Professor Sprout raised her hand politely. "And does this have to do with … He Who Must Not Be Named?"

"Yes," Harry answered. Again there seemed to be an intake of breath. Harry couldn't understand how they hadn't all expected this – but then again, he hadn't exactly said much to any of them about what he and Dumbledore had discussed.

McGonagall stood up angrily. "Potter, don't talk rubbish. You must finish your education! You are not old enough to make these kinds of decisions on your own, and as for You Know Who –"

"With all due respect, Professor, I am old enough," said Harry calmly. "If I don't go away as soon as possible and … and do what I have to do, then there won't be a Hogwarts left to educate anyone in. There won't be anything left …." And once again the magnitude of what he had to do set in, and what would happen if he failed – the fate of the free world was _literally _resting upon his shoulders. Voldemort had seen to that sixteen years ago.

McGonagall's nostrils flared. "Potter, Professor Dumbledore would never have allowed you to –"

"Professor Dumbledore is dead," Harry said shortly. There was a pause, and then … "And because of that … I have to do this."

"You can't possibly hope to achieve revenge for Albus's death by storming off on some … _dangerous _'mission', as I suppose it is. You can't do this on your own, Potter and without a parent or a guardian I shall have to –"

"I am on my own, Professor. Too many people have died already for me and as for Voldemort … it's up to me. I think you know that."

McGonagall sat down again, possibly stung by the harshness of his words. Harry was touched that she would have 'stepped in' as she was about to have put, but Harry had since decided that nobody could do that for him anymore.

Harry turned to Mr and Mrs Weasley. "I know you knew more or less what I was going to do," he said, and Mrs Weasley nodded. "But what you might not have known … is that Ron and Hermione are coming with me."

Mrs Weasley's eyes widened. Mr Weasley turned to Ron and said, "Is this true?" Harry heard McGonagall faintly mutter "preposterous!"

Ron stood up with his hand on Hermione's shoulder.

"Yeah, it's true." He looked at his parents. "I'm sorry we didn't tell you earlier, but I knew what you'd say."

Mrs Weasley stood up also. Harry had had a faint idea that this may happen. He hoped Ron wouldn't buckle.

"I understand that Harry has to go, and that it's all for the good of this world even though I think it's dangerous and a little reckless – but Ronald Weasley, you are _not _going with him!"

Ron looked for a moment as though he might give in, but then he said, "Sorry, mum, but I am."

Hagrid, who had been silent up until now, spoke in a loud booming voice with red, bloodshot eyes.

"Where're yeh goin' then, 'Arry?" he sniffed.

"You know we can't tell you that," Hermione said in a strong voice. "What if Voldemort came knocking one day and asked you?"

The reaction at Voldemort's name was predictable – intakes of breath and a few dropped glasses. Fleur's mother actually toppled over off her chair before regaining her seat again, embarrassed.

"I'm not endangering more people than I need to," Harry said, and with that, he thought of Ginny.

"So why are _they_ going with you, then?" said Fred, pointing at Ron and Hermione.

Harry smiled faintly. "They were always going to. Right from the day we all met … it was always going to be this way."

They beamed at him.

"So I'm sorry for doing this at your wedding, Bill … Fleur – but everyone had to know."

Bill stood up. "Don't worry about it. We know what's important." Bill had a steely look on his face. "Always thought you'd go off to do something heroic. As far as I'm concerned – there's no one better who could do it." Fleur swooped down on Harry and kissed him for what felt like the hundredth time.

Professor McGonagall sniffed loudly. "So Hogwarts is to lose _three pupils? _Miss Granger?" she added, looking to Hermione. "Am I to lose my best student?"

"We can hear you, Professor!" muttered Ron. A few laughed nervously.

Hermione smiled. "I'm afraid so, Professor."

McGonagall pushed her chair back and moved to where the three were standing. For a moment, Harry thought she was going to yell at all of them. But then …

"Well, if Potter has _you two_ with him … I suppose he can't go wrong."

Harry was stunned as she put her hand on his shoulder. Never before had she shown him any kind of affection – he thought privately that there was a positive thing about Voldemort – he brought everyone closer together.

Then Hagrid stood up abruptly. For a moment, Harry thought that he was going to collapse into a puddle of salty tears, but then he brought his hands together in what was an unmistakable booming clap.

One by one, people gradually joined in. Within a few seconds, the garden was ringing with applause, and Harry, Ron and Hermione stood there sheepishly – a little surprised if truth be told that they had had their decisions accepted; finally being treated as adults. Whilst this was undeniably gratifying, it was also a little terrifying.

- - - - - -

As people returned to their food and their alcohol, Harry managed to slip away from the back-patting, the hand wringing and the immeasurable wet kisses from Tonks, Mrs Weasley, Fleur, Gabrielle and, to his horror, Professor Sprout. He had not forgotten that Ginny had disappeared to the herb garden, and, what with everyone else having accepted his decision, he knew he could not leave it as it was.

He found her sitting on the bench in front of the duck pond, throwing stones into the greenish murk and making ripples. She looked up when he approached.

"Ginny, I'm s –"

"Don't apologise," Ginny cut him off and turned back to her stone throwing. "It had to be done. It's my problem, Harry, not yours."

Harry sat down next to her.

"I … I just didn't want to hear it again, I suppose," Ginny added with a grim smile, "or to know where you're going. Then I'd just worry."

"I didn't tell them anyway."

She glanced at him. "Still protecting everyone?"

He raised his eyebrows in what he hoped was a 'what-else-can-I-do' face.

They sat in silence for a long time. The light was beginning to fade and powerful scents of herbs wafted around them.

"Who'd have thought that acting normally was going to be this difficult?" she said without looking at him.

Harry stared straight ahead. "This isn't normal. Normal would be us together," he said and then suddenly wished he hadn't. Bill was right – he could have _kicked_ himself.

Ginny looked at him quickly. "Then why –?"

"You know why, Ginny. I know you're brave and you'd probably cope, but I can't take that risk I – I just can't."

He knew what she was thinking and, probably for his sake, not voicing, so he answered the question for her.

"It's different with Ron and Hermione. Ever since we were eleven years old … from that day it was always going to be them. And anyway – Voldemort knows they're my best friends. If he knew I was in love with you then –"

"What?"

Harry swallowed. So there is was – the answer to Bill's question.

"So you see … why –"

"Of course I do. You know what I said before – I suppose I always knew it'd be this way. That's why I like you so much." A strong beam of understanding shot between them. "It was just too short," Ginny finished.

Harry nodded. "Story of my life."

They sat in silence once more, but it was not the strained, normal-pretence silence of before. They now understood each other. There really wasn't any need for Harry to say what he wanted to, but he said it anyway, albeit quietly.

"That's me for life now, Gin. If you'll wait … there's never going to be anyone else."

Ginny considered him for a moment, and then said thoughtfully, "Nah – I think I'm going to go off with Voldemort. Much more macho."

They looked at each other and laughed. It was a mark of how strong their friendship was, as well as their feelings, that they could do this.

Ginny took his hand. "You look after yourself, Potter," and they kissed for what would be the last time before it was all over.

As the sun disappeared, Harry put his arm around her and said, in all seriousness, "Maybe I should start calling him Lord Chuckles. It'd lighten things up a bit, wouldn't it?"

- - - - - -

Harry would never as long as he lived forget the next morning as it was the saddest day of his life, far outstripping ever saying goodbye at the end of a Hogwarts term, or bidding farewell to the Weasleys as school begun. This was partly because, (though he would never divulge this thought to Ron or Hermione,) he doubted whether he would see any of them ever again – and these particularly were the people he had grown to love, and to treat as his own family, having had none of his own.

They had remained up late the night before, packing what they thought they would need (which was difficult as they didn't know how long they would be gone.) In the end they compromised by taking just over a week's worth of clothes.

"Harry, I sent an owl to Gringotts yesterday evening – they'll empty half your vault for you and you can pick it up on the way to … wherever," Bill had said earlier in the morning. Harry thanked him and knew that at least they would be all right for money.

It was a very subdued breakfast as they all knew that the goodbyes were to come. By 8:00 am, all was packed, they were fed and their brooms and trunks stood in the hallway of The Burrow. It also seemed that everyone who had been at the wedding the night before was also waiting in the hallway, which made it a little crowded to say the least.

"Right then," Harry said lamely, looking at them all.

"Now, you three, have you got plenty of clothes? You'll need some food for the journey to … wherever … and money? Yes, Harry's got money, and you must take Hedwig or Pigwidgeon, in case of emergencies or if you need us, so then we can go to … wherever, yes, and you'll need plenty of paper and quills, so you can write – oh! – and you must take –"

"– Molly! Enough," said Mr Weasley with a smile. He bent to hug his son and added in his ear, "You _do _have all of those things, don't you?"

"_Yes, _dad."

There was a great deal of hugging and kisses – it was all a bit of a blur to Harry; he badly did not want to say goodbye, but he knew he must do it now. He kept glancing at Ron and Hermione and his love and admiration for them grew – they would leave behind their families to join him in what would most probably be a fight to the death.

Mr Weasley shook Harry's hand profusely. "I shan't say goodbye, Harry, because I'm sure we'll see each other soon enough. I – I can't tell you how grateful I am for everything you've done for my family – I know you'll be fine. Good luck, son," he said.

The lump in Harry's throat had just got bigger, but it had only just started.

Professor McGonagall came into view. "I just managed to catch an early Portkey over, Potter, Weasley, Miss Granger. To say … goodbye, and good luck."

Hagrid came over and stood next to Professor McGonagall. Ron and Hermione came over too.

"I jus' wanted ter say, you three, you've bin the the best friends to me, and a lot o' fun. 'Arry … I know yeh've got the Weasleys here, and 'ol Lupin but … I always sorta thought of yeh like the son I never 'ad."

"Hagrid …" Harry put his hand on Hagrid's massive arm.

"No, no, yeh are. An' I oughta thank yeh fer that, 'Arry, an' all o' yeh, fer standin' by me so many times."

Hermione hugged Hagrid around the middle. Her arms didn't quite reach but he seemed to appreciate the gesture.

"Ah, get on wi' yeh," he said gruffly wiping his eyes. "Good luck, Harry."

Lupin, who had been comforting Mrs Weasley, let go of her gently and came over to Harry. He stood in front of him with a troubled expression on his prematurely lined face.

"Are you really not going to tell me where you're going, Harry?" he said seriously.

Harry considered him. "If you were me, would you?"

Lupin cocked his head. "No, probably not," he said. "I hope this is for a good reason – what with Dumbledore now … now gone, you'll be on your own."

"It is for a good reason. It's actually because of Dumbledore that I'm going – no, not for only revenge," Harry added off Lupin's sceptical glance. He thought carefully about what he could tell Lupin. "We – we discussed Voldemort a lot," he decided upon. "And … I'm fairly prepared – he told me more or less what has to be done now."

Lupin looked at him. "I thought as much. Harry, there's something else I'd like to talk to you briefly about," he went on, taking Harry's shoulder and moving over to the doorway, away from the others.

"Snape."

Harry looked quickly at the floor, not wanting his face to betray him. If he told Lupin what he really wanted to do, then Lupin might be less happy about letting him go.

"What about him?" Harry asked.

"I know what he did was – horrific to say the least, but … Harry, I'm asking you to let it go."

Harry looked up incredulously, in spite of himself. How could Lupin say this? Now it was clear Snape had been a traitor all this time?

"Are you serious?" he said as quietly as he could. "You just want to let Dumbledore's killer go free?"

Lupin shut his eyes for a moment, as though the memory caused him pain.

"No, that's not what I mean. But you said yourself – this is about you and Voldemort. Not you and Snape."

Harry took a breath: – to him now, it was almost as personal, if not more so, between himself and Snape than it was with Voldemort. Voldemort had always tried to kill him, right from day one, but Harry's father had known Snape, Snape was partly responsible for his parents' deaths and he was wholly responsible for Dumbledore's …

Harry tried to keep his voice level. "If I meet him along the way –"

"Harry, you can't let your hatred for him blind you towards what you have to do now –"

"– then I can't promise you that I won't do everything in my power to stop him. And, yes, I'll kill him if I have to."

Lupin sighed and put his hand on the doorframe looking extremely weary.

"But I won't go looking for him, Remus. I give you my word."

Lupin looked up again, a softer expression on his face. "Thank you, Harry." They looked at each other for a minute.

"You are so much like your father," he said unexpectedly. "And Sirius too, I have come to notice. At school, that may have been a hazardous combination," he said with a slight laugh. "But in the outside world … they would be so proud of you."

Harry blinked and tried his hardest not to let the tear fall.

"What I said before," Lupin went on, "about you being on your own … I meant to say that – I'll always be here, if you need me."

Nodding his head in thanks, Harry held his hand out, but Lupin brushed it away and hugged him, possibly in the way that Sirius would have done, had he been there, and Harry knew it.

Mrs Weasley was still in the midst of a full lecture with Ron, telling him not to forget to clean his teeth, because even if he were on a dangerous mission there was still gingivitis, and not to take on more than he could manage: when he finally shook her off he was hugged by Fleur, to what appeared his great enjoyment.

Mrs Weasley found Harry.

"Now, Harry," she said, flattening his hair, ignoring tears streaming from her eyes. "I want you to know that when you come back –"

"– If I come back." He couldn't help being honest with her.

"– _When _you come back, you silly boy," he said strongly with narrowed eyes, "that you will always have a family here. And that is from all of us," she said, motioning to her family; the twins stood behind her and suddenly gave Harry a bag full of stuff.

"What's this?" Harry asked.

"A load of stuff from our joke shop," said Fred.

"It's to keep you amused along your dark and perilous journey," said George with a chuckle. "We reckon you'll need a good laugh."

Harry smiled, and took the bag as the twins went off to give Hermione a second bag.

"Don't mind them," said Mrs Weasley. "They're not good at goodbyes."

Harry nodded.

Mrs Weasley turned and looked at Ron and Hermione, who were now standing together, their hands touching as they listened to yet another lecture from Tonks.

"Look after them, won't you, Harry?" Mrs Weasley said seriously.

"Of course I will," Harry said … and saw Ginny over Mrs Weasley's shoulder. She turned to see what he was looking at, and then turned back to him.

"Oh, and don't you worry. I'll look after _her._" And with a small smile, she turned to leave them alone.

As Ginny came towards him, Harry thought that maybe he would have liked to have said goodbye in a less than busy environment, but knew that if he did, he would not leave her behind.

Ginny came up to him and punched him on the arm.

"See you, Potter," she said.

"You bet you will," he smiled, and pulled her into a hug, oblivious to the fact that there were lots of people around who might notice. "Have a good term." He had almost forgotten that she would be returning to Hogwarts. "Oh, and no snogging anyone," he added with a wry smile.

She took his hand and kissed it.

"There's one for the road."

And she turned, climbing the stairs.

It took longer than Harry would have liked, leaving, because everyone kept rushing up to give them one final hug, or word of advice, but finally they were out in the yard with everyone at bay in the doorway, or as many of them as could fit, waving.

Harry turned and looked at his two best friends.

"Sure about this?"

"Er – no. I've changed my mind," said Ron.

Hermione looked at him.

"All right, all right, I'm kidding."

"Let's go then," said Harry, and, in a line, they walked away from The Burrow, away from safety … away from childhood.

- - - - - -

**A/N: **Ahhhhh – bless their lil socks. Next chapter is where it really gets going, I promise!


	5. Village Gossip

_**MARKED**_

Summary:

This fiction is set directly after Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince (HBP) and will therefore unsurprisingly contain HBP spoilers. Harry returns to the Dursleys for the final time before embarking on the adventure of a lifetime – a lifetime which may very possibly end – if he loses.

* * *

"_Or … if the snake isn't a Horcrux, then we'll need something from both Gryffindor _and_ Ravenclaw … meaning the snake is harmless … well – not harmless. I was going to be fed to it at one point."

* * *

_

**FIVE: Village Gossip**

Harry flung out his right hand as they neared the road (or to be more accurate the dirt track) and it happened a great deal quicker than he thought that it would: the Knight Bus bustled sharply around the corner

"Goodness, that was quick!" said Hermione breathlessly as the huge purple bus drew up.

"Do we have to go on this thing again?" Ron moaned to Harry who hauled his trunk up to a standing position as the doors opened. Ron had had a bad previous experience on the Knight Bus.

"Well, seeing as I have no idea where Godric's Hollow is, yes. We do."

Ron grimaced.

The man who helped them get their trunks on board was not, Harry noticed uneasily, Stan Shunpike. With an ominous feeling that his lack of release from Azkaban was not a good omen for the start of their journey, Harry got in after Ron and Hermione.

The drive was predictably uncomfortable: Ron and Hermione ended up on top of each other numerous times and Harry had his face slammed into the windscreen twice. Hedwig's cage was so battered by the end of the journey that Harry had to check that she was still breathing.

As they neared what appeared to be a sleepy little village, Harry spoke from the back to the crazed driver.

"Can you drop us just outside the village, please?" he asked as politely as he could as his stomach was churning uncomfortably.

Ron and Hermione looked at him curiously. "Why?"

Harry spoke quietly so as not to be overheard. "I don't want to leave a paper trail – anyone could ask the driver, he's too well known. Plus I want to have a look around the village and see if there's anywhere where we can stay."

They paid the unknown conductor, took their things and stood well back as the Knight Bus thundered off and disappeared around the bend.

It was now around 10:00 am, and the street on which they stood was bathed in the early morning sunshine. The village main street looked fairly small, but there were at least four roads that Harry could see which led off into cul-de-sacs or closes with small wooden signs with names like _Nairn End_ or _Gibraltar Lodge_. Directly in front of him was an even larger sign on the entrance to the village which read _Godric's Hollow _– so this was where his parents had lived … this was where _he _had once lived.

"It's very pretty, isn't it?" said Hermione. And she was quite right – alongside the edge of the winding footpath was a bubbling brook framed by a number of willow trees; all the shops and houses on the main street resembled the thatched, quaint dwellings of Hogsmead.

"Right – let's go, then."

"Er, Harry, I've just had a thought," said Ron.

"What?"

"Well, what you said on the bus, about not leaving a paper trail … everyone knows who you are."

Hermione's eyes became wide. "Yes, yes, he's right Harry! What with the _Daily Prophet_ suddenly deciding you're their best friend nowadays and all the pictures they dug up of you … everyone knows what you look like!"

Harry's expression became stony. "I hadn't thought of that," and he hadn't. How could he have been so stupid?

"Well, we can't just walk around like this then, can we?" said Hermione.

"So what do you propose, Hermione? I'm not a Metamorphmagus!"

"No … no you're not, but there is something I could do … something I studied when I was going over past NEWT papers in our fifth year …"

"What?" said Ron sceptically.

"Well I could change some of your appearance."

"Oh, no I don't know, Hermione … he could lose a nose or something."

"Oh don't be ridiculous," she snapped at him. "I couldn't do anything as major as that … just something like your hair colour … maybe even alter your eyes … it's a fairly simple spell, but the thing is, I couldn't keep doing it – it's a bit like overusing Felix Felicis. If kept up it might not change back … so I could only do it once."

"Well, you'd best do it here," Harry said thoughtfully. "This is probably the most public place we'll be and there's bound to be some wizards around here."

"It might well even be an entire wizard dwelling, you know, Harry," said Hermione.

Ron looked up. "I thought Hogsmead was the last wizard village –"

"– _One _of the last."

Harry looked around and walked over to the shade of the willow trees. "Come on then, do what you have to do. And please let me keep my nose."

Ron looked at her sharply. "Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

"Of course," she replied testily. "I tried it on myself once."

Ron looked at her questioningly. "What did you change?" he asked.

Hermione blushed.

- - - - - -

It was over quicker than Harry expected. The smallest changes made the world of difference, he noticed, as he looked at himself in the window of the shops as they walked on. All that had changed was that his eyes were now blue (Hermione pointed out that if they were hazel then people might think that he _was_ his father – not something they wanted to test in the village where he once lived.) His hair was now a lighter shade of brown rather than black and … this was the weirdest part for Harry … his scar was gone.

"How long will it last?" Harry asked.

"Three days, maybe," Hermione answered.

"Thanks."

They came to a halt outside a pub with a swinging sign above the door which read _Bravery's B&B_. It was small but appeared from the outside as welcoming and friendly. They entered through a small door (Ron had to duck) and found themselves in a dark but well furnished bar with comfy red chairs resting merrily by the crackling fire and a few laid tables. The bar at the back of the room was mahogany in colour and had two chubby bar maids behind it.

The clientele inside the pub told Harry that this was in fact an entirely magical community – someone was stirring their tea with their wand, a child was sat on the lap of her father holding a wand which was emitting a reddish liquid into her cup and the blond bar maid was absent-mindedly waving her wand to clear a few tables of plates.

"Er, excuse me?" Harry said to the second bar maid – a brown haired, rosy cheeked woman.

"Yes m'dear?"

"I just wondered if I could ask you a few questions about this village," Harry said, thinking on the spot.

"Of course, luvvy," said the curvy girl.

"Um, how long have you lived here?"

The girl giggled. "Oh, let me see … around ten years, I might have done …"

Harry's heart sank. She wouldn't have known his parents. He was going to ask her anyway.

"Do you know anything about Lily and James Potter?" he said.

The girl's expression changed. "O' course I do, luvvy, everyone 'round here does – that's what this village is famous for!"

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, though he thought he knew.

"Well, it's the place little Harry Potter stopped You Know Who, the very first time, innit? Don't fancy the poor lad's chances much now, though, if truth be told …"

Harry cut her off, not wanting to hear the rest. "Where did they used to live?"

The girl looked as though she would have thought that everyone would have known. "Well, Godric's Close of course – no house there anymore, not the original anyhow. Burnt to smithereens wasn't it? New housing estate over there now."

Harry stood back, a little disappointed. He should have known that things would have changed.

The girl's expression became more suspicious. "Why d'you want o know, anyway?" she asked. "You ain't reporters, are you? 'Cos I don't trust newspapers these days, and anyway, that whole Potters thing was years ago now – more pressin' things afoot nowadays, what with You Know Who ..."

"We're not reporters, we're … er –"

Hermione opened her mouth before Harry could answer. "We're students … well, past students – we left school a few years ago, and we're helping our – our younger friends with a History of Magic project – it's about famous villages. We're on route to a few others."

"Oh," the barmaid's expression softened immediately. Harry thought that she couldn't be too bright. "I see. I would've thought you'd know all about this place then, if you're doing a project."

"Well, we wanted to talk to the locals first," said Ron joining in.

"I tell you what," the girl went on, leaning towards them. "There's a lot more history to this place you know, but I can't remember it all. The landlord of this place is in tomorrow … he knows all about it. You should come and talk to him."

"Great, thanks, we will," said Harry, glad to know they had gotten somewhere on their first day.

"Anything else I can help you with?" she asked.

"Do you have any rooms available?" Harry asked.

"Now then, now then, let me think," she said after a pause. "Yes, we do … we have two left. You can either have the furnished one on the second floor with four beds, or the one in the attic. But then you'd have to share with Mrs Lenningham.

Harry and Hermione looked at each other.

"We'll take the one on the second floor, please," said Harry.

Ron cleared his throat. "Er … how old is Mrs Lenningham?"

Hermione elbowed him in the ribs.

"That'll be twelve galleons a night then, my love," she said slyly, giving Ron a cheeky grin. Hermione's scowl deepened.

- - - - - -

The room was deceptively large. From the outside, they felt some trepidation, but once inside they were pleasantly surprised. There were four beds; one was separated from the other three by a wall which created a smaller sub-room. There was a tiny bathroom and a sink basin next to the wardrobe.

"S'not bad," said Ron flopping down on to the bed which he claimed as his. "So how long are we staying here then?"

"Not sure," said Harry. "I want to have a wander around the village at some point … maybe find my parents house."

"But … how are you going to do that?" said Hermione tentatively.

"No idea."

"So … Harry, what are we doing here? Why did you want to come, I mean besides your parents."

Harry thought carefully. "I can't explain it, really. It all started here … I guess I wanted to come before I started searching … maybe I'll find something here."

"And – we're looking for … _Horcruxes?_" Ron asked.

"Yep. Basically, Dumbledore reckoned that there are seven – the seventh being him in his body now. I destroyed one, the diary, in our second year, remember? Ginny had it. Dumbledore got rid of another one … a ring. It was owned by Marvolo Gaunt – Voldemort's grandfather."

"So there are four left?" Hermione repeated. They had gone through this before, but Harry felt that it was better that they kept hearing it – it also helped him to constantly think things through in case he came up with a new brainwave.

"I reckon that one of them is a cup … a valuable silver cup that was Hufflepuff's – as far as I know, Voldemort's still got that one. Dumbledore told me he was suspicious about that snake that Voldemort uses – it's called Nagini. That's a possibility too, but there's also the locket …"

He broke off.

"Harry?" Hermione pressed.

"… the locket that me and Dumbledore went to get from the cave … but it wasn't there –"

"The one R.A.B took?"

They had not really discussed R.A.B much – Harry had not shown signs of wanting to specifically find out who it was and since none of them recognised the initials, they hadn't pressed the matter.

"Yes. Because Riddle liked to take trophies from important people, I think that the final Horcrux should be something of either Gryffindor or Ravenclaw's."

He sat there mulling it over, and a sudden thought came to him. It was for these pauses in between and new ideas that Harry kept going over this.

"Or … if the snake isn't a Horcrux, then we'll need something from _both _Gryffindor and Ravenclaw … meaning the snake is harmless … well. Not harmless. I was going to be fed to it at one point."

Ron sat up a little straighter and scratched his chin. "So … basically, we've got to find the _real _locket from someone who took it that we've never heard of who might be dead anyway, then find this cup, which You Know Who is probably sleeping with under his arm in his bedroom, figure out which one of Gryffindor's or Ravenclaw's thousands of possessions would serve as a good Horcrux, find this murderous snake that You Know Who never lets out of his sight, then try and kill You Know Who himself, and if that doesn't work, we'll know that one of those four things isn't a Horcrux, and we have to start again?"

There was a silence.

"More or less."

Ron lay back down on his bed again. "So – small job really."

- - - - - -

After settling themselves in the room (Ron and Harry took the beds by the window whilst Hermione had a certain amount of privacy by having the bed separated by the wall) they decided to have a wander.

Being used to Hogsmead made occupying an different wizarding community rather odd – people they didn't know would randomly do magic on the streets, but it was odd to see it done in a way where some people vanished any rubbish in the roads, or else stopped for a good natured chat with Martin from the local butchers, or otherwise greeted them happily as they passed. Harry could understand why his parents had lived here.

They came to the end of the main street on which they had passed Mr Roubil's All Purpose Occasional Robes, (_Find the robe that suits you!) _Eponine's Eatery, (_Come on in for a cuppa and rest from the Floo!) _Martin's Best Butchery, another pub which was smaller than the one they were staying in and was called _The Magical Marquis of Granby_, Sophie Spotwell's Stationary Store, _(Buy your auto-correcting quills here!_) and, as the shops became smaller and less frequent, they came to a church.

It was fairly small, but very pretty, somewhat isolated from the rest of the community a little way down and in front of large and open fields on the edge of the village. There were two small stone chambers linked by a pointed tower with a bell atop the highest point. The front of the church was given over to a large stained glass window, which showed the baby Jesus lying alone in a crib, dark panes of glass creating almost a swirling vortex around him.

"Looks like you," Ron said with a trace of humour, nudging Harry.

"Shall we have a look around?" Harry said, moving towards the front of the church.

Ron and Hermione looked at each other and then followed. They knew inside why Harry had come here – to find his parents graves – and they were not totally sure how he would react, or even if they'd find them.

Surrounding the church was an overgrown garden which nevertheless looked well tended to – the long grass gave an almost meadow-like feel with the yellow and red flowers growing here and there. They rounded another corner and were now directly behind the church – and there it was – a graveyard, under the shade of abundant beech trees.

Harry walked a little ahead of them on the dappled pathway from the shade of the trees. Ron and Hermione looked at some of the graves.

"These are quite old," Hermione pointed out. "Look at this one – 1744 – 1770. Over two hundred and fifty years ago."

"They're probably preserved by magic," said Ron, rubbing the grime off one of the stones to reveal the name Arnold Wolfbecker. "Blimey – this guy was one hundred and twelve! Must've had a Philosopher's Stone."

But Hermione was looking at Harry a few yards ahead of them, who had stopped at one large headstone.

"Harry?" Hermione prompted gently.

Harry looked up. "It's OK," he said. "I've found them."

And all three of them stopped in front of what appeared to be one of the newer graves – obviously Godric's Hollow did not have a vastly high mortality rate any more.

The grave was black in colour, and contained gold lettering.

_James Edward Potter_

_1957 – 1981_

_Beloved Husband, Friend and Father_

_Also lies Lillian Maria Potter_

_1958 – 1981_

_Beloved Wife, Daughter and Mother_

_Both now sleep safely with God_

Hermione put her hand on Harry's shoulder. "Are you sure you're all right?"

Harry nodded. He didn't speak for a minute, but then said, "It's nice to see them … I – I've never seen them before."

He turned and walked towards a particularly thick clump of flowers. Both Ron and Hermione watched him cautiously, but their expressions softened when he returned with armfuls of red and yellow wild flowers, placing them at the foot of his parents' graves.

He turned to look at his best friends. "Would you guys mind giving me a minute?"

"Oh, of course!" said Hermione, grabbing Ron's arm and steering him away to a larger tomb nearer the church.

Harry knelt down and spread the flowers.

"There you go," he said, more to himself than anyone – he felt a bit stupid talking to himself, but now he was here, he felt like he ought to say something.

"Sorry I haven't been before."

And he hadn't been before – it hadn't really occurred to him until now.

"You see, I – I'm on my way to destroying Him now … and this is where I start."

Harry did not know what else to say. This was harder than he thought it would be. He stood up, thinking allowed.

"I will finish this. I promise you."

He kissed his hand and touched the gravestone before rejoining Ron and Hermione, who put her arm around his shoulders and led him out of the graveyard.

"Finished?" Ron asked as they exited through the gate.

Harry pondered this. He settled, for now, in saying, "It hasn't even started yet."

- - - - - -

* * *

**A/N: **Just wanted to say a big thanks to _Mrs Sakura Potter _and _Forever Used _who review every single time – thanks, I really appreciate it guys – and to _Sammy Lyn_ who finally reviewed (you say you're my fan, but what you don't know is that I'm actually yours! Lol.) _Felton's Girl_ – this chapter should answer all your questions about Harry/Ginny etc. And your fic didn't suck. I read it myself. He he. 


	6. An Ancient Retaliation

_**MARKED**_

* * *

"_I say! What a coincidence. You do look rather like that famous lad, if I might say so, young Mr Harold. _

_What irony, eh?"

* * *

_

**SIX: The Ancient Retaliation**

Harry's sleep that night was troubled; it was not simply that Ron's echoing snores filled the room, punctuated frequently by Hermione's irritated sniffs from the other side of the room, but whenever he dropped off, his head was filled of images of his parents and Dumbledore, who were all cut off from him by large towering gravestones, their troubled faces visible from the other side.

He finally slept for what felt like five minutes before somebody was gently shaking his shoulder.

"Whatimissit?" he muttered groggily, groping for his glasses.

"Nearly 8:00 am," Hermione said.

Harry sat up quickly and pulled the covers up to his chin, forgetting for a moment that he was sharing a room with a girl.

"You're up early," Harry said to her, putting his glasses on as the room came slowly into focus.

"Yes, I don't really sleep in much," said Hermione. "Looks like _he_ does though," she added, nodding towards Ron who had his mouth wide open and was snoring louder if possible than he had done all night.

"You'd do well to remember that in the future," Harry said under his breath, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and rubbing his eyes.

"Pardon?"

"Nothing," he said hastily, masking what he said with a huge yawn.

"Actually I got up a bit early because I thought we might catch that landlord today – you know the one that the barmaid said we should talk to. I'd be quite interested to hear what he has to say about this place's history. It must be named _Godric's _Hollow for something."

Harry felt more awake now as possibilities occurred to him. "You mean … maybe something of Gryffindor's that Voldemort might have wanted to use?"

"Well, it's an idea," Hermione said thoughtfully. "We could be completely on the wrong track but … I just thought … maybe we might have more to go on about the Horcruxes – because you said yourself that you _felt _like you needed to come here …"

"Hermione, I'm not Trelawney – I didn't see anything with a newly found Inner Eye."

Hermione glared at him. "That's not what I meant. Some wizards … well; they _feel _things, like a sixth sense or something like that. It's happened before – with you … when you first came to Hogwarts you sensed that something bad was happening – and that was even before your scar started hurting."

Harry pondered this for a moment: it was true, he had felt somewhat drawn to Godric's Hollow for reasons that he couldn't quite place.

Behind them, Ron gave a particularly loud, grunting snore and rolled over.

"He sounds like a rutting warthog," Hermione said in a level voice.

Harry glanced at her and, having too much experience of their arguments, he added, "I'll go poke him."

- - - - - -

They ambled downstairs half an hour later to find that breakfast was included in the price of their room, for which they were very grateful. It was by no means Hogwarts standard of food but it was edible to say the least.

Swallowing his fried eggs, Harry looked up quickly when the door swung open and a large man in bright red robes came in through the door, raising his hand to the girl behind the bar.

"Morning, Muriel," he said in a very well-spoken accent before disappearing behind the bar.

Harry put his fork down. "D'you think that's him?"

"Must be," said Ron. "Looks like a landlord, doesn't he?"

"Let's give him a minute," said Hermione. "We don't want to appear too eager or they might not buy our history project story."

So they waited for ten minutes finishing the pot of tea on their table before they approached the bar in as normal fashion as possible.

"Excuse me?" Ron said this time. They were lucky it was the same barmaid as yesterday.

"Oh, hello my luvvy!" she said brightly. "Sleep well?" she added with another cheeky grin.

"Yes, thank you," Hermione interjected. "Did you say that the landlord was in today? Only we wanted to ask him about the history of Godric's Hollow."

"Oh, yes, of course you did, I remember now. One minute – _Mr Turner!_" she bellowed through the door. "Some people wanted to ask you about the village!"

There was a pause followed by, "Send them through!"

Muriel stood back and opened the bar for them.

"First door on the right," she said cheerfully.

The three of them entered a room which was furnished in a very old fashioned style – there were floral patterned curtains and armchairs, an open fireplace and what might have been an antique desk in the corner. The landlord was sitting in one of the floral armchairs reading the _Daily Prophet._

"Hello there," he greeted jovially.

They all said hello and stared around rather uncomfortably.

The landlord shook his head, tutting. "Two murders in a week … dear me …" He then seemed to notice they were still standing there. "I'm so sorry, I forgot to introduce myself." He stood up and offered them a pudgy hand poking out of the end of his woolly red robe. Harry thought he looked rather like a comical monk.

"Willard Turner – been here all my life, ran this pub since I was twenty-five … and I'm a little older than that now, I can tell you!"

They smiled disbelievingly – a little flattery wouldn't hurt.

"Now, I hear that you want a little history! Look no further, my friends, you have come to the right person! Until last year, I held some talks about this village and its history … I used to be the curator of the National Wizarding Museum before I missed my home too much and returned. That was about thirty years ago now."

He stared at them impressively. Harry knew they had struck gold.

"What is it you want this information for?"

"We're doing a history project for some children at Hogwarts School," Hermione said. "It's all about famous villages, and we heard that Godric's Hollow was the place to come."

Turner poured himself a glass of gold liquid, which Harry supposed was mead. "Ah, yes. You were correct – doesn't get many visitors these days, I must say. But I suppose it all happened rather a while ago now. And you say you come from Hogwarts? I heard about old Dumbledore … tragic, absolutely tragic … didn't know him well, but still … very suspicious circumstances as well, if you ask me …"

"Mr Turner," Harry cut off. "We wanted to know if there's anything else that this place is famous for … you know, other than for being the place where V – where You Know Who vanished."

"Oh, you know all about that, do you? Mind, I don't suppose there's a soul alive these days who doesn't … the Potter story … everyone knows, don't they?"

Harry flattened his fringe nervously out of habit, forgetting that his scar was temporarily invisible.

"Knew the Potters, for as long as they were here, of course … brave souls. They used to come in here every now and again, laughing and joking with their friends, not a care in the world. Then young Lily was showing … congratulated her myself. That poor young lad … as if he didn't have enough trouble … now he's been labelled the Chosen One." Turner appeared to be lost in thought for a moment. "Anyway … enough of that." And he took a swig from his glass.

Harry exhaled thankfully. He was getting uncomfortable hearing so much public opinion about his life and his chances – it was very odd being treated normally and not having people stare at him all the time. He was also spoken to normally, as though he were just another person invited to join in the debate about the Chosen One.

"Well, you may have noticed the name of this village is significant?" he asked mysteriously. "I'm sure that, being from Hogwarts you will have undoubtedly heard about the four greatest witches and wizards of that age long ago."

It appeared that he was a good story teller and revelled in a captivated audience. Harry, Ron and Hermione did their best to try and look as though they were on the edge of their seats to try and get as much information as possible.

Setting his glass down next to the crystal decanter he said, "This village's story begins with the four founders. Well, as you know, Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Slytherin were the founders of the school. You'll know all about the fallout between Gryffindor and Slytherin, I presume?"

They all nodded enthusiastically.

"What people may not know is the real root of the problem. Yes, they were all four of them famous for the school, and yes, Slytherin and Gryffindor's animosity is known far and wide … but what many do not know is what exactly they quarrelled about."

Harry frowned. Ron, it appeared, had not heard this either.

"Now, you may know that Slytherin wanted to be more selective about educating pure-blood students – Gryffindor disagreed, and there was a big row culminating in Slytherin building the legendary Chamber of Secrets within the school."

Harry, Ron and Hermione all exchanged looks. All three of them and Ginny alike knew that the Chamber of Secrets was anything but legendary, having both entered it and been attacked by the monster within over five years ago.

"That's as much as many people know … but what they _don't _know," Turner said, dropping his voice dramatically, "is that Gryffindor retaliated."

"What do you mean?" said Harry quickly.

"Well …" Turner stopped, suddenly looking wary and lowering his glass from his lips. "Is this going into a project?"

"Not if you don't want it too," Harry said quickly, not wanting to overstep the mark and not get anything out of the man.

Turner nodded. "It may be best if this was … edited slightly … if I tell you the whole story, then be _selective _… this is a very closely guarded secret. I only know because my grandfather told me and his before him. It's very sensitive."

"Of course," said Hermione in an understanding tone. "We wouldn't use this, Mr Turner … we're just … we were in Gryffindor house ourselves, and we'd like to know more about it … for peace of mind of course."

That was pretty much true, Harry thought, marvelling at Hermione's tact, and saw with relief that Mr Turner seemed to get over his inhibitions about releasing this protected information that he alone appeared to know.

"Well then, as I was saying … Gryffindor built somewhere too … oh no, not in the school," he added off their looks. "He knew that Slytherin had done something of the sort before he left, and so built his own legend … _Godric's Hollow _… right here, in this village."

"Here?" said Ron incredulously.

"Oh, it's never been found – much like the Chamber of Secrets, it has a basis in fact, but there are possibilities that the story has been tampered with along the years. Naturally, people who know of this legend have searched the village for such a place, a Hollow if you will, but it hasn't been found."

Harry swallowed. They had found the Chamber of Secrets, hadn't they? All of a sudden, he felt one step, one glorious step, closer.

"Why did he build it?"

"Well, now you ask … like I said before, this is subject to misinterpretation … but like Slytherin, the Hollow was supposedly supposed to be opened by a specific person; Gryffindor's heir alone."

"What was inside?" asked Hermione fearfully.

"That is not known," said Turner with a trace of disappointment. "No, I'm afraid that I do not know. But if I were to make an educated presumption … seeing as how Slytherin's Chamber was supposed to contain a monster to harm all those who were not pure-blood, I would hazard a guess that Godric's Hollow, the real place, contains something that would purge the world of evil, or something to that effect … but _what_ exactly I don't know."

He fell silent. Harry's heart was racing.

"And no one has any idea where this place is?"

Turner shook his head. "I've made my own assumptions, but nothing concrete. Few know why this place is named as it is – they assume that Gryffindor founded the village, or he lived here previously … some don't even make the connection at all."

"But then, why did he build it here?" Ron asked, confused.

Turner shook his head. "There are many possibilities – many of which I have tested and none of which I have been right about … I'm an old man, my dears – speculation is my hobby. I'm not a treasure hunter."

Harry's heart sank slightly. He turned theatrically to Ron and Hermione. "Well, we could put in the bit about Gryffindor building something … but leave the name of the village out of it – what do you say, Mr Turner?"

"An excellent idea, my boy! And … I appreciate your restraint … it's nothing other really than a desire to keep some legends … legendary, if you catch my drift."

Harry nodded. "I understand. Well, thank you very much for your help, Mr Turner."

"Yeah, we'd best get writing on that project, eh Harry?" said Ron. Harry glared at him. Ron's expression then turned suddenly to one of utmost horror at what he had just said.

Turner looked at Harry. "Harry, did he say?"

"Um … yeah, short for Harold," invented Harry wildly.

"I say! What a coincidence. You _do_ look rather like that famous lad, if I might say so, young Harold. What irony, eh?"

Harry smiled, but it turned out more as a grimace. "Yeah."

They turned to leave, saying thanks once more, but Hermione spoke unexpectedly.

"Excuse me, Mr Turner, could I ask, is there a public library anywhere near?"

Turner frowned and narrowed his eyes. "Not in this village, my love. I'm afraid you'll have to travel to the town of St. Marlow's for that – huge library there, restricted section to boot. Quickest way is Floo powder – we have some in the bar."

"Well, thanks again Mr Turner."

Turner waved his hand. "Please, call me Willard. Glad to be of help! Good luck with the project – and do enjoy your stay here, won't you?"

They left through the door and out the front of the pub, stopping on the street outside. They all looked at each other – clearly none of them had been expecting to find out so much on the second day of the journey.

"Wow," said Ron. "They kept that one quiet at Hogwarts!"

"It doesn't necessarily mean what we think it does," said Harry, trying not to get his hopes up, yet feeling excited all the same.

"What else would You Know Who use? Whatever's in the Hollow would be perfect – seeing as how you thought he wanted something from the founders," Ron said.

"All the same," Hermione began, "we're a bit lost without any other information. We really ought to go to this library."

Ron looked at her with a quizzical expression and a trace of a grin. "Missing your favourite pastime?"

Hermione ignored him. "If we could get more information about the village itself, we could maybe figure out why Gryffindor would build the Hollow here. And where."

Harry nodded. "Good idea."

"I'll go," said Hermione, then said off their looks,"I'll be quicker than either of you."

"What? We can look for books just as well as you!" Ron interjected.

"OK then – explain the filing system," Hermione said with a smug expression, knowing fully that Ron wouldn't be able to answer.

Ron opened his mouth and closed it again. "Well – yeah OK. You'll be quicker."

"If I go now then we won't be hanging around for ages, will we?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, good idea. Thanks, Hermione."

She smiled and turned to move towards the fireplace. Ron grabbed her arm.

"Oi," he said as she turned. "Er … be careful."

Hermione looked a little surprised at Ron's concern, which caused her to go slightly pink before stepping back into the pub. Harry looked sideways at Ron.

"What was that about?" he asked when Hermione had gone.

Ron's neck had gone as red as Turner's woolly robes. "What?"

Harry said nothing and put his hands in his pockets. He was torn between the Ron and Hermione issue: whilst knowing that it was really none of his business, he was worried that Voldemort would somehow find out if they were to admit to each other (if no one else) thus putting them in more danger.

Harry said no more on the subject and permitted Ron to be evasive for now. On the other hand, he thought, with regret, of how much he missed Ginny and how much he wished that they had had more time together …

- - - - - -

Harry rubbed his eyes wearily. He and Ron had just exhausted everything that Turner had told them: Ron had the idea of writing it down. Harry thought that this was a good plan as it would be handy to have a record of what they had found out and look for any patterns.

When Hermione had been gone for nearly two hours, Ron spoke. "Do you think she's all right?"

"Yeah, she's Hermione isn't she?"

Ron looked sceptical. "Yeah … but on her own … maybe we should have gone with her."

"She'll be OK."

Harry re-read what he had just written. "Gryffindor retaliated … well I reckon Turner was right about what might be inside it – if it was to get back at Slytherin then it would probably be the opposite to a dangerous monster …"

"_If_ it exists," Ron reminded him.

"And even if the object itself wouldn't benefit Voldemort … if it was Gryffindor's … it'd be perfect to use as a Horcrux …"

Harry sighed. "But _where _… I only hope Hermione found out something or we're absolutely buggered –"

Just at that moment, the door flew open and Hermione stood there with a bag full of books, looking wide-eyed and harassed.

She dropped the books on the bed and sat down next to Ron, looking fairly excited.

"Anything?" Harry asked hopefully.

Hermione nodded and said to their grateful ears, "I think I know where it is."

- - -- - -

* * *

**A/N: **Hey y'all – thanks for the lovely reviews. They do buoy me up immensely.

_Mrs Sakura Potter _– I meant that the guy who replaced Stan was unknown, cos he's still in Azkaban, not Ern. Now then as for R.A.B … I do certainly have a theory, one of which will be revealed in subsequent chapters … you'll have to wait and see! I also agree about the locket being in Grimmauld Place.

_Elmire _– thanks for your lovely review: I think your English is **fantastic** if it's your 2nd language, very impressive! I think the whole Ginny thing is difficult to predict – whether or not she'll come with them in book 7 … I just thought that Harry would probably stand by his decision from HBP. However that doesn't mean that she won't feature in _this_ fic … As for the date of Lily/James's death … I just took an educated guess lol – near enough!

_Becky_ – I can answer your questions like this … yes. And yes.

_Forever Used _– now you can feel special again. Lol.

_Mrs Draco Malfoy _– thanks. Actually I am JK. This is where I post my clues … just kidding.

_Kessemm_ – Hmm, not sure if Harry is ready for something as intimate as that … but I get your point. However, like I said before, Ginny may yet appear …


	7. What Lies Within

**Chapter Seven**

**What Lies Within**

* * *

_Hermione reached out a trembling hand ... and the wall moved._

* * *

Harry stared at Hermione who was now feverishly flipping through pages and pages of the numerous books she had brought back with her, now strewn across Ron's bed in a heap.

"You _know _where it is?" he repeated disbelievingly.

Hermione looked up. "There is _so_ much history to this place! But it's all sort of … spread about, in different books and records, so that if you only looked at it once, you wouldn't think that the village was special at all …"

"I went to look up Gryffindor first, but I didn't get very far – there was nothing really about him that we didn't already know, you know, having founded the school, one of the four greatest wizards of the age, it said something about his quarrel with Slytherin, you know, blah, blah."

Ron and Harry glanced at each other with raised eyebrows; they had seriously reached a point of drastic prioritising if it caused Hermione to say 'blah' when referring to revered facts about one of the founders. She ignored their expressions.

"The only thing written that we _didn't _know was that some believed Gryffindor to be some kind of Prophet who sensed things to happen in the future – he didn't make any specific or radical predictions, so I don't know how much of it is true … but it's worth noting."

She picked up one book entitled The History of Wizarding Dwellings.

"This book … here," she said, indicating to a specific page and pointing to a line. "It clearly states that there was a week of search parties surrounding Godric's Hollow about seventy years ago … but they don't seem to know what for – it just details recently a great interest in something unknown that some select villagers were searching for."

She threw the book aside and picked up another, a much older and battered book than the previous one with a peeling, crusty cover.

"_This _one actually gives a specific date where there was a rush of interest in some sort of treasure hunt …conducted by some old expert in those times …"

"Sounds like the same sort of search party," said Harry thinking hard, trying to digest Hermione's words.

"That's exactly what I thought – but neither book reports that anything was found …"

"Does it say where they were searching?" asked Ron.

Hermione delved again into the pile of records looking extremely knowledgeable. "_Well …_ because it gave a date, I went into the archives section of the library and pulled out some old newspaper reports … there was one, here –"and she pulled out one single sheet of yellowing parchment, "comments on an excavation in Godric's Woods, on the edge of the village, next to that church, remember?"

"Yeah," said Harry slowly, still not getting it.

"_Now,_" Hermione continued, "just because I had an idea about _why_ Gryffindor would chose this place I looked up 'magical occurrences and disturbances'in the directory and the index in the library and there were only three major events in the year of 923 A.D, which was when that excavation was –"

"What major events?"

Hermione found the correct record and pulled it out, handing it to Harry. His eyes travelled down the paper.

"It documents _events_ as magical disturbances – that is to say, not done by wizards. The first was a day of shooting stars hitting earth somewhere in Putteridgebury, and later on somewhere a village spontaneously turned green … but they're not important. I found that there were reports of what could only be described as a _vortex_, somewhere where people would come to be healed …some said they were cured of serious ailments and afflictions here … they couldn't explain it, but almost that this phenomenon was almost shamanistic."

She paused at the look on their faces.

"That means it was a naturally _good _place – good as in the absence of evil. It was perfect – if it's true, of course."

"Where was this event documented?" Harry asked.

"Well, I didn't know at first, because before Gryffindor came here, the village went under a different name – in fact there was a record of the name being changed in 923 A.D when Gryffindor founded the village –"

"– He _founded_ the village?" Ron said incredulously.

"Yes, I was just getting to that – so that's why they called it Godric's Hollow … of course, if the legend is true, then Gryffindor was leaving a clue about why he founded it, but of course people wouldn't make that connection, would they? They would have just accepted the name he chose because he founded it."

"So how do we know that this place was the vortex if the village went under a different name?"

Hermione smiled smugly. "Because," she said with pride, "I can translate Ancient Runes.

Harry and Ron waited patiently whilst Hermione basked in the advantages of taking Ancient Runes as a subject.

"The vortex was supposedly in a place called _Norte Dominez Vibestian_ –"

"That sounds ominous," Ron muttered.

"But if translated it reads as _North Tower Village_ … which is what Godric's Hollow was called before the name changed."

With a satisfied smile, Hermione looked from Harry to Ron who were beaming at her.

"You are amazing …" Harry said aloud, before he went on. "So … going back to this excavation in Godric's Wood – you reckon that's where the Hollow will be?"

Hermione nodded. "If we put it all together – it makes sense. If Gryffindor left something that supposedly helped to rid the world of evil, then it would make sense to leave it in a place with healing spiritual qualities. And having a _hollow _in a _wood _is fairly plausible."

Harry nodded, momentarily too astounded at Hermione's brilliance to say anything else.

"So, we're going –?"

"– to the woods."

- - - - - -

The day had worn on to a later time than any of them had realised, and by the time they were setting out through the village, it was past 6pm.

"Do you think perhaps we should wait until tomorrow?" asked Ron who was eying the pinkish tinge in the sky.

Hermione answered before Harry did. "No! We have to try now."

Harry agreed. Now they were so close he wanted to get as much of a move on as he could. Every now and again, sheer curiosity often hid the main objective of his journey – he was so caught up in the history of Godric Gryffindor that once or twice he had to remind himself that this would all enable him to kill the most evil wizard of all time.

They rounded the final corner on the main street and past the church. There was a fairly steep in-climb up a hill behind the church and it was here that the trees began.

It was hard work moving up the hill as every now and again there was a really steep bit where Ron often gave the others a leg up before clambering up himself with his long limbs. However before long they were truly inside the wood with most of the late afternoon light blocked out.

It was unlike the Forbidden Forest at Hogwarts in the sense that the trees were much taller, yet no less thick, and the floor was pleasantly springy here and there with pine needles. As they trod a deeper path however the track disappeared and the ground became increasingly muddy.

Harry turned to Hermione, who was currently negotiating a particularly stubborn bramble bush.

"Was there anywhere specific the books mentioned?"

Hermione considered. "Something about the deepest thicket – I would guess that that means in the middle, but it's not a very big wood so we should keep our eyes open for anything –"

"What _exactly _are we looking for?" said Ron ducking a low branch.

"A kind of dip in the ground I suppose, like a cavity," Harry answered, hoping his idea of a hollow was similar to Gryffindor's.

"But there are loads of those under foot."

Harry looked down – true, the ground was uneven and potholed in places, but none were big enough that warranted investigation. "A big one; or just anything that catches your eye."

They moved onwards cautiously. The light had faded fast and visibility was becoming progressively more difficult. Harry took out his wand and muttered "_Lumos_," before pocketing it again.

Ten minutes slowly turned into twenty as the wood became steadily darker. They gradually moved towards what they thought must be the heart of the wood, surely, as they had been walking now for at least half an hour straight in the same direction. Even though the trees were tall, the brambles and bushes were less easy to pass and before long, all three of them had scratches on their arms and sweaty faces, mud filling up their shoes.

"I could try a Locator Spell," Hermione suggested. "It would reveal anything that shouldn't naturally be here."

Harry and Ron nodded, their knees beginning to hurt as they had been gradually walking down a deceptive hill for the last five minutes.

"_Revellious!" _Hermione said clearly, pointing her wand into the darkness of the thicket. There was a small pop, like a bottle being opened, and then a flash of electric blue light that stung their eyelids before it faded.

After a few seconds, Hermione shook her head. "Nothing – but that doesn't mean it's not here," she added looking at their crestfallen faces. "That spell only focuses on the surface – the hollow might be hidden from the naked eye."

"That's good then," said Ron sarcastically.

"Well there's nothing I can do about it Ron, it's not my fault the spell can't search to the entire core of the earth –"

"– I never said it was!"

"It's not like you've had any other bright ideas –"

"- Guys," Harry said suddenly, not only because he was tired of their bickering but because he was just realising what they were standing in. He indicated with a shaky arm all around them.

It took a few seconds for both Ron and Hermione to see it, but when they did, Hermione gasped, "Oh my!" and Ron exclaimed "Bloody hell!"

The slope that they had been walking down before coming to a halt had finally flattened out. Harry pointed all around them and, though it was dark, they could see that all around them the earthy banks rose upwards. Without even realising it, they had just walked into a massive bowl.

Ron let out a nervous laugh. Harry couldn't understand why it had taken him so long to note that something was different as there was, now he looked, a significantly reduced number of trees and springy turf underneath.

"Well, this is certainly a large hollow," Hermione noted, suddenly looking down at her feet as though hoping to see something directly underneath them.

Ron glanced around him looking ghostly under his wand light. "How can anything be built here? There's nothing."

Harry privately agreed with Ron that there couldn't be anything here, but this was the biggest hollow he had ever seen, and it couldn't be coincidence that there was one like it within Godric's Wood.

"Let's split up and have a look around," he said.

The others moved away and began walking around the edge of the surface area of the basin-like landmark, scrutinising every odd clump of earth, every nearby tree, anything unusual.

Harry peered around where he stood and having no trees nearby to examine, he dropped to his knees and felt the earth beneath his feet. It was damp, just as the other earth outside the hollow had been. He scooped up a clump and felt beneath, to see if there was anything solid, but there wasn't. All he had now was blackened fingernails.

He moved away from his original spot and walked over to where Ron was looking very closely at a tree.

"There's something sticky on this tree, it's not natural," he said.

"It's called resin, Ronald," retorted Hermione from over the other side without even looking over. She was also examining the earth.

Harry moved towards the middle of the hollow and the floor beneath him suddenly felt quite different.

"It's quite springy here," he shouted over to them, walking over the earth. "It's not like the other ground, it's almost like there's something –"

But he never finished his sentence because the ground suddenly disappeared beneath him.

Scrambling uselessly against the abrupt lack of ground, Harry received a face full of earth and knew a moment of terror before he sank into a large pit. It took him a minute before he realised that he was actually sliding down a smooth surface before he came to a bumpy stop at the bottom of what had acted as his slide.

He could hear Ron and Hermione's anguished cries from somewhere above him as he struggled gingerly to his feet and checked to see that everything still worked. He turned to see that his slide was actually a large and very long trapdoor, which had been concealed within the earth nearby roots, and had opened the second he had stepped on it.

"Harry! Oh, Harry, are you all right?" came Hermione's desperate voice from above.

Harry peered upwards and could see daylight coming from where the door was hanging open. Ron and Hermione were both peering cautiously into the hole.

"I'm OK," he called up to them. "Really, I'm fine."

He examined the ancient door again.

"If you're very careful and sit down first you can probably slide down this door to the bottom."

As Ron and Hermione deliberated about how to get down, Harry looked around for the first time at where he had landed.

He seemed to be in some kind of underground chamber. It was like a circular room with stone walls, only beneath the earth. Harry looked above him once more and saw that roots were trailing from the ceiling too. The musty and decaying smell told Harry that this was a very old chamber, possibly not entered for hundreds of years.

Ron slid down the trap door first, followed closely by Hermione who uttered a slight squeal before she lit her wand.

"What _is _this place?" she said fearfully, getting to her feet and brushing down her skirt.

Harry took in a musty breath. "I think it's Godric's Hollow, Hermione."

"But I don't get it," said Ron confusedly. "I walked over that spot! Twice!"

Hermione nodded. "Yes, so did I."

"So how come you fell through it?" Ron said.

Harry shrugged. "You both weakened the ground I guess," Harry said moving around the chamber, excitement mounting in his chest … _they had found it … but where was the Horcrux?_

But Ron and Hermione continued to look doubtful.

Ron touched the walls, withdrawing his hand immediately. "They're slimy!" he said disgusted, looking to the green tinged walls.

Hermione reached out a trembling hand to touch the wall nearest her … and the wall moved.

With a terrible crunching sound, like the sound of heavy metal grinding against hard stone, the wall moved slowly backwards.

Hermione had jumped back into Ron's arms, startled, but Harry moved instantly forwards to what the wall had revealed: a small, dark opening into which Harry squeezed through.

"Be careful, Harry!" Hermione warned, and both she and Ron followed him cautiously.

As they moved into what was a second chamber, smaller than the first, they noticed that it was filled with a faint silvery light. Harry's heart was pounding in his chest and his breath hung as fog in front of him by the light of his wand … could this be it? He could hear Ron and Hermione's shaky breathing behind him. It was only when Harry turned in a full circle and looked on the back of the recently moving wall that he saw it.

Written in a very old hand so that it was only just discernable was a message written in a silvery ink that had not faded in the slightest:

_To He Who Hath Found This Place,_

_Know Your Truth …_

… _And Use It Well._

Ron's face was screwed up. "What on earth's that mean?" he said.

Harry read and re-read the message that had been emitting the silvery glow through and through, a sinking feeling beginning to settle within the pit of his stomach. As soon as he had entered this room, he had known that there was no Horcrux to be found. Save this glowing message, the room was as empty as the first.

Hermione's expression was similar to Ron's. "_Know your truth … _what does that mean? Is it some kind of a clue?"

"What truth though?" said Harry dully. "This message doesn't tell us anything …"

"Except that seeing as this place is over hundreds of years old the message is surprisingly bright … that must mean that Gryffindor knew it needed to be long lasting, so someone in the future could find it …"

"Maybe someone beat us to it?" suggested Ron.

Hermione muttered the message quickly under her breath, as though trying different ways of saying it. After a few minutes with all of them staring at the message, she spoke.

"I just don't know, Harry, I don't understand it."

"Why did Gryffindor go to all of this trouble," Ron said, indicating to the chamber around him, "and just leave _that? _I mean, what use is that if you don't know _the truth?_"

"It says specifically, _your truth,_" Hermione continued, "So it must relate to one specific person. It also addresses it _to He."_

"That doesn't necessarily mean anything though," said Harry in a flat voice. "Back in those days … it will have been a patriarchal society anyway."

They continued to stare at the wall in a stony silence that stretched for an uncomfortable amount of time. Harry felt that to speak would be to admit that there truly was nothing here to be found; that they had made the exciting trip for nothing. Soon, he could bear it no longer.

"There's nothing here. Let's go."

There was an angry bite to his voice as he turned on his heel and walked out of the hidden chamber. He had been so sure that he would find Voldemort's Horcrux here … _something of Gryffindor's … _well wasn't this the most obvious place to hide it?He knew, even as he walked away, that it wasn't going to be that easy … but all the same, he had felt so close …

Ron and Hermione exchanged a glance and followed in his wake, all three of them with a somewhat defeated sound echoing in their steps.

* * *


	8. Tactical Persuasion

_**MARKED

* * *

**_

"_You … I know who you are …" he muttered, pointing at Harry._

"_Good," said Harry coolly. "That saves us an introduction."

* * *

_

**EIGHT: Tactical Persuasion**

Harry lay flat on his back on the bed in their occupied room in _Bravery's B&B. _It was almost like above his head was a mini moving solar system of ideas, each spinning round and producing conclusions which became wilder and wilder. He had written down the message in Godric's Hollow in the note book, but there had really been no need, seeing as it was as though the silver words were permanently imprinted on the back of his eyelids every time he closed his eyes.

Ron and Hermione were each sat on their respective beds, legs crossed, tired expressions on their faces.

It had been past midnight when they had returned from the woods, as the journey back was a lot more difficult in the dark. They hadn't all realised how hungry they were until they had returned; the disappointment of not finding the Horcrux had driven the thought of food right out of their minds.

"I'm going to go and see if we can get some sandwiches sent up," said Hermione, slipping off her bed.

Neither answered her.

When the door had closed, Ron looked at his best friend.

"Come on, Harry," he said. "It was never going to be that easy, we knew that."

Harry nodded to the ceiling, feeling completely useless.

"It's not your fault … we'll figure out what that message meant eventually."

Harry sat up. "I know … I just wish we'd started better."

Ron leaned forwards. "You know, I've been thinking about that message …and I reckon it was left for you."

Harry stared at him. "Me?" he repeated.

"Yeah," Ron went on. "You were obviously meant to find that place … I reckon that this truth … whatever it is, is something that'll help you … in the end."

Harry lay back down again. "Yeah, well, old Gryffindor could've been a bit more informative, couldn't he, eh?"

Ron smirked at Harry and the door opened, Hermione entering with the tray of sandwiches.

"Ah, now there's a nice image," Ron muttered, yawning.

Hermione looked at him quizzically. "What, me or the sandwiches?"

Ron's ears went red.

"Egg and cress, Harry?"

- - - - - -

After a meal of nicely thick sandwiches, Harry felt a little better and once he had changed and gotten into bed, he felt OK discussing what had happened with Ron and Hermione.

"_Use it well …_" Harry pondered aloud, as Ron had fourth helpings of sandwiches. "That sounds like something Dumbledore once said to me … about my invisibility cloak."

Hermione frowned. "Hmm, but I don't think Dumbledore will have had anything to do with this, Harry, just because … well, I think he told you everything he knew."

"Yeah," Ron said through a mouthful of a BLT. "Anything as important as that, he would have told you earlier, wouldn't he?"

Harry nodded. He had felt for a moment there that something associated with Dumbledore was reaching out to him … but the reality told him that this was a false dream. Dumbledore would never communicate with him again.

Hermione vanished the plates with her wand, just as Ron was about to take a seventh sandwich. "But Ron's right, Harry, it wasn't your fault. There was a real possibility that there would be a Horcrux in that Hollow … more than a possibility I'd say."

Harry nodded again. "It's just … odd now, you know, that it's just us. I mean I know that that's how it's meant to be now, but … well. What with Sirius and Dumbledore gone … I don't really know what to do next."

Hermione pushed her hair out of her eyes and sat up matter-of-factly. "OK, let's think about this logically. If we're saying there's no Horcrux of Gryffindor's, then it must be that there's something of Ravenclaw's to go with the locket and the cup. And thinking about it now, you did say that Dumbledore told you he thought that the only known relic of Gryffindor was safe …"

Harry thought back to Dumbledore's words. "The sword …"

Ron nodded. "Makes sense really – if there was going to be one founder than You Know Who didn't like, it was going to be Gryffindor, wasn't it?"

Harry frowned. "So that means we at least know what the four Horcruxes are – the locket, the cup, the snake and something of Ravenclaw's."

"OK, let's go after the cup, because we know what it is and whose it is was. We know Voldemort stole it from that woman Hephzibah Smith after he killed her … where did she live, Harry?"

Harry racked his brains. "Somewhere in London because Voldemort visited her on foot from where Borgin and Burkes was."

"So he might have hidden it in London?" said Ron.

"Dumbledore said he vanished from work the day after Smith died, didn't he, Harry … what with Smith's family having realised those treasures were gone, he wouldn't want to have been caught with any of them on him… no matter how elusive he was," Hermione said thoughtfully.

"So you think he would have wanted to hide the cup there and then?"

Hermione nodded, but Harry had just had a sudden thought. "What if he didn't vanish that day? What if he went back to the shop in Knockturn Alley before he went?"

Ron looked sceptical. "I don't know, Harry, that'd be a bit risky, even for him."

But Harry shook his head violently. "No, if there's one thing I learned about Voldemort, it's that he liked to keep trophies of people and places … he must've hated Burke being higher than him for all that time, just waiting for his breakthrough … what if he went back for one last time? Burke wouldn't have known what Voldemort was planning to do, so he might have wanted to get him back … and he could've talked more openly."

Hermione still looked sceptical, but she finally said, "It's worth a try I suppose."

Ron shook his head. "But Harry … Burke isn't there anymore – it's just that slimy Borgin … and he'll never say anything – he knows who we are."

A dark expression came over Harry's face that neither Ron nor Hermione had ever seen before.

"He'll know something … we'll just have to … _persuade_ him."

- - - - - -

It felt very strange walking down Diagon Alley in the bright sunlight the very next day. Diagon Alley was a place Harry associated with school, with the Weasley's and with Hagrid. And now, they were going to try and find out where yet another of Voldemort's Horcruxes may be hidden.

Having gratefully left their heavy trunks at a small hotel just outside the Alley (where they were less likely to be recognised by anyone) they set off towards Knockturn Alley.

Unfortunately the spell that Hermione had performed to alter Harry's appearance had since worn off. Harry had been badgering her to do it again, but Hermione wouldn't take the risk.

"It's too dangerous, Harry!" she had said earlier. "I don't want be responsible for giving you permanently pointed ears!"

Ron seemed to think that this would be quite funny, but after Harry had a vision of pointed ears, he fell silent and stopped asking.

The sunlight seemed to shrink away from them as they turned into the notorious alleyway and the air now contained a slight chill. Harry walked purposefully, words figured out in his head and thinking that perhaps the fact that his appearance was back to normal was a good thing.

They came to a halt outside the black and now dishevelled looking store which was sandwiched in-between what looked like a rat shop and a boarded up old place on the left.

Harry walked in first, remembering how hideous some of the artefacts on display were; there were human skulls encased within a glass cabinet, deformed looking limbs which appeared to be fossilised whilst they were rotting, a row of tiny red bottles, all labelled with a yellow hazardous sign … Harry knew why Voldemort had worked here. Ron and Hermione followed in behind him; Ron let out an audible gasp, having never been in the shop before.

There was no sign of anyone at the counter and when Harry leaned over the table, which separated customer from till, there was still no sign of Borgin.

Ron was looking very uneasy. "You know, there's no one here. Let's go."

Hermione looked at Ron sarcastically. "You'd make a great henchman."

Harry rang the grimy little bell on the counter, ignoring Ron.

There was a slight shuffling from within the back. A raspy voice was eventually heard.

"All right, all right, I'm coming … do you know what bleedin' time it is –?"

He stopped short at the sight of the three serious-looking teenagers and an uglier expression appeared on his already ugly face.

"You … I know who you are …" he muttered, pointing at Harry, red blotchy patches appearing on his withered cheeks and his jowls were set aquiver to rival Filch's.

"Good," said Harry coolly. "That saves us an introduction."

Borgin twitchily brushed his oily hair out of his eyes. "You shouldn't be here …I don't want you in my shop …"

And he moved around the counter towards them. Harry stood his ground.

"Get out!" Borgin hissed, pulling out his wand, and still Harry didn't move. Their faces were now very close together; anyone else would have recoiled at the sheer repulsiveness of Borgin, but Harry had to be more intimidating or they would never get the information they came in for.

"No," he said simply. "We want to ask you a few questions." His hand was curled around his wand in his pocket and he was hoping that Ron and Hermione had theirs in a similar position.

Borgin eyed him suspiciously. "I don't want to be seen talking to you," Borgin said darkly. "Get out of my shop!"

Harry took a step forwards and Borgin took a step back.

"No."

From the look of his face, Borgin was formulating a plan within his oily head. Taking yet another step back, he moved behind the counter.

"What is it then?" he asked turning away. But as he turned, and Harry knew he was going to do this, he spun on the spot and aimed his wand at them all.

"_Furnuc –_"

"_Protego!" _Harry yelled, parrying the curse swiftly.

Borgin was knocked back off his feet into a shelf full of liquid-containers. They cracked as he slid down the wall.

Harry moved towards him. "I don't really want to hurt you, Mr Borgin," he said casually. "But like I said, we want to ask you a few questions."

Mr Borgin scrambled to his feet. "Get away from me, Potter! I know what you are!" he muttered, pulling his wand out again.

"I don't think you have a clue about who I am," Harry said coolly, looking at Ron and Hermione.

Hermione drew her wand and shouted clearly, "_Incarcerous!"_

Tight thick ropes shot with a bang out of the end of her wand and wound themselves tightly around Borgin where he was crouched against the shelf. Unable to move, he let out a stream of swearwords in rage.

Harry let this tirade pass, and watched as Borgin struggled, and failed, to get to his feet. Eventually he gave up and settled for a mere crouch against the liquid shelved wall.

He looked up at Harry, spite in his eyes. "What do you want? I don't know anything!"

"We haven't asked you anything yet," said Ron. "How do you know you don't know anything until we've asked?"

"I'm not telling you anything!" Borgin spat. "No matter what it is! Do you know how quickly I'd be killed if they knew I was helping you people out? Look at my shop! Look at the alley it's in! Are you stupid or something?"

Harry looked down at Borgin with a certain amount of disgust in his voice.

"It's hardly our fault that you chose such dangerous friends. That's your problem. And you _are_ going to tell us what we want to know."

"Oh I am, am I?" Borgin muttered sarcastically.

Harry crouched down so that he was on the same level as Borgin. "We know that somebody called Tom Riddle used to work here."

Harry was using Voldemort's human name, because he could hazard a guess that there were now very few people left in the world who knew about the connection between the names. Dumbledore was one, Harry, Ron and Hermione were the only others he knew of.

Borgin's expression didn't change. "Maybe he did, maybe he didn't."

Harry reacted in a flash. Thinking the word _Levicorpus! _inside his head, he waved his wand upwards. Still restricted by his bonds, Borgin flew into the air upside-down by his tied ankle, unable to move for the ropes. He struggled wildly but to no avail, and it was not until he began to turn purple that Hermione uttered a warning in Harry's ear.

"_Harry! _Be careful!"

Harry thought the counter curse, _Liberacorpus! _and Borgin crumpled into an unceremonious heap.

Harry bent down once more so he was facing Borgin, who now appeared to be in a considerable amount of pain. Ron had since crossed the room and made sure that the _closed _sign was hanging in front of the grimy door.

"When did Tom Riddle work here?" Harry repeated in a level voice.

Borgin shook his head, panting. "Before my time … don't know anything about him."

Harry tutted and shook his head. "Now see, I think you do, Mr Borgin."

Borgin spat on the floor.

Harry considered him for a moment before taking his wand and pointing it right between Borgin's eyes. Hermione made to grab Harry's arm, but Ron held her back, watching Harry closely.

Borgin went cross-eyed looking at Harry's wand. When Harry spoke it was in a voice full of hatred and anger.

"Listen to me, you disgusting little worm, you _are _going to tell me everything that you know about this man called Tom Riddle, because I have had just about enough of your sort to last me a life-time. Now if you don't tell me, you might just find out what it's like to have someone unleash the sixteen years of hell he had to live through right back on you."

Borgin looked back at Harry, apparently unable to speak.

"Do you want to try me?" Harry added, raising his eyebrows looking rather frightening.

Borgin leaned back and did not speak for a few minutes. Then he opened his mouth, and it seemed that both Ron and Hermione let out a giant breath.

"I never spoke to Riddle …" Borgin began. "Like I said, he was before my time here … when Burke was in charge. I was just starting out … always in the back …"

"Poor you," said Harry dispassionately. "Go on."

"Riddle was … well – odd. Very shifty."

"Define shifty," Harry said warningly.

Borgin shook his head irritably. "Like I said, I didn't really know him! Very interested in the Dark stuff … more so than anyone I'd even seen …had a weird look in his eye … didn't like him much."

Harry nodded, an oddly twisted expression on his face. "No, neither did I. OK then, what happened when he left?"

Borgin looked for a moment like he was going to tell Harry where to go, but seemed to think better of it at the last minute.

"Well … seeing as I was just a junior then … I had to come back some evenings for till training like …"

Ron snorted and received a look of pure hatred from Borgin.

"I came back one evening … through the back door like … and was just about to speak to Burke when the door opened … and that Riddle came in."

"You're sure it was him?" Harry asked. It was essential that this information was right.

"Of course I am!" said Borgin irritably. "He looked odd anyhow … sort of a red gleam in his eye."

Harry resisted the temptation to shiver – he had seen that red gleam all too often.

"Mr Burke was saying something to him about old Hephzibah Smith, she was a good customer of the shop … and she'd died the day before …"

"What was he saying?" said Ron.

"Didn't hear," said Borgin. Harry got out his wand again, but Borgin stammered. "N-no, really, I – I didn't hear … so I moved closer … Burke seemed angry about something … said that Riddle had stolen something …something that should have been his …"

Harry looked at Ron and Hermione suddenly. He knew they were all thinking the same thing … _the cup and the locket._

"Then what?" Harry prompted.

"Riddle said he didn't know what he was talking about … said this place was a dump, that he was going to leave anyway …Burke said he couldn't … something about not until he'd given him what he knew was his …sounded like treasure."

Harry's heart was pounding.

"So anyway … Riddle …" Borgin swallowed. "Riddle – he k-killed Burke. Or at least, he did some spell on him and loads of blood came out …"

Harry's mind was racing … _Sectumsepmra … _did that mean that Snape was already working for Riddle then and had shown him that spell? Had Snape already decided then that he was going to kill innocent people? … Harry wrenched his thoughts away from the hated form of Snape and tried to concentrate on Borgin's words.

"Riddle left, Burke was still alive …"

"– And did you help him?" Hermione said sharply. "When Riddle had left?"

Borgin hesitated for a whole ten seconds and then shook his head.

"You just left your boss to die?" Hermione said, looking horrified and yet a little disgusted.

"That's because you knew you'd get the business, wasn't it?" Ron said. "You called it Borgin and Burke's so that they'd think he'd left it to you … that's why you didn't want to tell us all this I s'pose?"

"So what did you do?" said Harry. "Follow Riddle?"

Borgin nodded.

Harry snorted bitterly. "That was only because you thought he had some treasure … you're lucky he didn't catch you … or did he?"

Borgin shook his head this time. "I followed him for hours … wanted to know what it was all about …"

"That was stupid," Harry said, and then remembered that Borgin did not know that Riddle was in fact Voldemort. He thought it might be amusing to tell him, but refrained from doing so.

"So where did he go?" Hermione asked, biting her nails.

"Got as far as Somerset …" Borgin said with a trace of disappointment in his voice.

"Blimey," Ron muttered. "You must have been a poor sod to travel from London to Somerset for a piece of treasure you didn't know anything about!"

"I knew it must be valuable!" Borgin spat. "He'd just killed for it, hadn't he? Anyway … got to Somerset … and I lost him. Completely vanished, like right into thin air."

Harry thought that there was in fact quite a big possibility that Voldemort had in fact vanished right into thin air.

"Let me guess the rest," said Harry. "You went back to the shop the next day, knowing that Burke would be dead, and waited patiently at home for the call from the Magical Law Enforcement Squad?"

Borgin nodded slowly. "I 'ain't proud of it …" he said quietly. "Why d'you think I didn't want to talk about Riddle? Especially to you! You're … you're …"

"I'm what?" said Harry coolly.

Borgin fell silent. "Is it true? The Chosen One and all that?"

Harry turned his back on Borgin and signalled to Ron and Hermione that they should leave the shop.

He looked back at Borgin and said sarcastically, "Well thank you very much for that easily gathered information, Mr Borgin. We won't be seeing you."

They turned and pulled open the door.

"Hey!" came Borgin's angry shout from the floor. "Aren't you goin' to help me?"

Ron gave a mock laugh. "Oh, yeah! Sorry! I forgot," and he turned to _closed _sign back to _open._

When they had moved away from the relative darkness of Knockturn Alley and into the relative sunlight of Diagon Alley, Hermione turned to Harry and Ron, a look of great excitement on her face.

"Well, that clears a lot up!" she said happily.

Harry nodded. "I should've guessed that Voldemort killed Burke … Somerset … why did he go there?"

Hermione looked incredulously at Harry and Ron, as though astonished that they hadn't gotten to the same page that she was on.

"What?" said Ron.

"Oh, didn't either of you read those books I got out from the library in St. Marlow's?

Both Harry and Ron shook their heads.

"The book about the four founders? No? I can't believe you two!"

"Well come on them, put us out of our misery, Miss Brain box."

"In the introduction it gives information about their backgrounds … and something that I read about _Helga Hufflepuff _was that her original home, before she moved to Hogwarts of course, is open to the public! It's in –"

" – Somerset," Harry finished the sentence for her. "Right. Let's pack our stuff."

* * *

**A/N: **Halleighluja! sings the chorus of angels at Hermione's cleverness. Hope you liked that chapter … interested to see all of your theories on chapter 7 … somebody has come very close … but I can't say who. Please review for your thoughts on this one!

_Pam: _Lol yes I do like cliff hangers. Something my readers are becoming increasingly angry with me for. As for your theory about _The Truth …_ hmm we'll see!

_Ely: _Hope you're out of the café! Nice big review pls lol.

_Kessemm: _Lol I am now completely making it up as JK left no more clues for me to work on … well. Not obvious clues anyway. It's hard you know!

_Mselaineous: _I totally agree with your RAB theory and I also hope that he managed to destroy the Horcrux! I actually think that we are told where it is in book 5 … did you pick up on that?

_SammyLyn: _Thanks for your reviews … you must now update so I can give you some! Lol.

_Elmire: _No, I like your really long reviews! You seem to have 2 theories the truth … one of them is closer than the other one lol. I hadn't thought about the A in RAB but now I think about it, you are probably right! Well found!

_Mrs Sakura Potter: _Hopes that Hermione does eventually figure it out else there will be no story lol.

_Forever Used: _Hmm easy you say? Well … you shall have to wait and see. And we will find out soon enough where/what that Horcrux is … if indeed it exists.

_Eddie: _Hi, thanks for your review, unfortunately I don't know anything about the anime Oh My Goodness, so I'm going to decline your offer of the C2 community, but thanks anyway! Glad you like my stories.

_Shooting Star Falling: _Hey, thanks for the review. Urm, I don't know if I can really answer your question … it does sort of relate to Harry else I wouldn't have put it in … but I can't really tell you how. Yet.

_Lana: _Wow, thank you. What a compliment! blushes copiously :)


	9. Brain and Badger

_**MARKED

* * *

**_

"_Blimey," said Ron. "There's not much to see  
here, is there? Look, there's a farm. And oh look,  
there's another farm."

* * *

_

**Nine: Brain and Badger**

"Couldn't we have just have called on the Knight Bus again?" muttered Ron. They were all sitting in a small compartment of a Muggle train, which was bumbling along the wet tracks to Somerset.

"No," Hermione answered him patiently. "It's best that we travel in different ways so nobody can pick up a pattern."

"And I suppose that there's less chance the Muggles will recognise me," said Harry who was looking out the window, a thousand thoughts racing around his head. _I need a pensive, _he thought.

"Exactly," said Hermione. "Wizards scoff at Muggle transportation, but it's much better than they give them credit for. I think we'll probably be there in an hour."

They had been discussing the information that they had extracted from Borgin in hushed voices (all the same, Muggle transportation or not, you could never be too complacent about being overheard).

"I suppose Voldemort did have motive for killing Burke," said Harry thoughtfully.

"How d'you work that one out?" said Ron, perplexed.

"Well, Burke took the locket off Voldemort's mother, Merope, before he was born – Voldemort knew because Smith told him that day – when she showed it to him. Burke ripped Merope off; that locket would have been priceless seeing as it was Slytherin's."

"So do you think that's the only reason why Voldemort went back to the shop?" Hermione said. "To get revenge?"

"I don't know," Harry pondered. "Maybe … or maybe it wouldn't have happened if Burke hadn't tried to get back the stuff Voldemort stole from Smith … I suppose he thought that it was his because he'd tried to get it off her for ages ..."

There was a pause and then Hermione looked at Harry with a half-beady, half-frightened look in her eye.

"Harry …" she began. "What would you have done if Borgin hadn't … hadn't told you all that?"

"I don't know, Hermione," Harry answered truthfully.

"I mean … would you have – have –"

"Leave it, Hermione," Ron said quietly.

"I wouldn't have killed him, if that's what you mean," Harry said slightly defensively. "But I might have thrown him about some more. Anyway, why does it matter? He talked didn't he?"

It was raining outside and the water-logged chartered towns they were passing gradually became more rural as the train moved into the bucolic outskirts of Somerset. It was almost as though they were travelling to Hogwarts and, for one glorious moment, Harry tried to pretend that they were; all that he had to worry about was homework, and what the next Quidditch conditions would be like and hoping that the rain would clear up soon enough so that he and Ginny could spend some time alone together down by the lake in the sunshine …

"Harry," Hermione said softly tapping his shoulder. "We're here – you nodded off."

Harry wrenched himself out of this perfect daydream, gathered his things and followed Ron and Hermione out on to the rain-spattered platform.

As the train ambled away from them, they drew their coats around them as the rain lashed at their faces. Hermione wandered over to a map which was encased in a plastic cabinet for new-comers to look at.

"Hmm," she muttered scrutinising the map.

"Hermione," said Harry over the noise of the wind. "That's a Muggle map.

"I know," she said brightly and rapped it with her wand. It instantly changed – different places were pinpointed in bright colours, places that hadn't been there before. The map was unrecognisable in its riot of bright pink, orange, electric blue and lilac.

"Oh," said Ron vaguely, moving closer to see it. "Blimey, there's not much to see here, is there? Look, there's a farm. And oh look, there's another farm."

Hermione ran her finger down the wet plastic and came to a halt. "There," she said, pointing to a specific spot with her wand. "The House of Helga Hufflepuff; open to the public all year round, ten till four."

Ron glanced around him and looked up at the sky. "Won't have many visitors today, will it?" he muttered receiving a face full of rain.

"How far is it?" asked Harry feeling increasingly chilly and resenting having to lug his trunk around with him.

Hermione consulted the map again. "It says it's in the village of Little Daft, but by the looks of it it's quite far out from the village, on top of that hill," she said pointing to an illustrated lump on the map. "The village is about a mile from here."

"That's good, we can rent another room," said Ron. "This trunk is killing my arms."

Nodding, Harry led the way out of the station and following Hermione's directions, moved towards the village of Little Daft.

- - - - -

The B&B they left their things in was very small, as was the village of Little Daft, much more so than Godric's Hollow had been. Before setting out, Ron turned to Harry as they put on warmer clothes.

"You know, I should send a letter to mum and dad, just to let them know we're OK."

Harry considered. "Yeah, I suppose that'd be alright," he decided.

"Great," said Ron, getting out a piece of parchment from the drawer next to his bed. "Then she can let everybody know we're all right and we won't have to send ten letters."

Harry pondered … he had been thinking about this for a few days – it would be really nice to write a letter to Ginny, to let her know that she was still in his head. Ron wouldn't make a fuss … at least he hoped that he wouldn't.

It took Ron about ten minutes to finish the letter to his parents with Hermione helping him over his shoulder with his grammar.

"Necessary is _two _c's, _one _s, Ron. You don't want to remind your parents how young you are by writing to them in blatant garbage or they'll worry more that you're here."

Ron, who was biting his tongue as he spelled the last word, appeared not to hear her, but corrected 'necessary' anyway.

Harry was just finishing a short message to Ginny.

_Gin,_

_Hope everything is going OK at school, I'm missing it more than I thought I would. Things are going OK here, had a few bad days, but I think we're on the right track now. Obviously I can't tell you anything about it, but you knew that already. _

_Knowing that you're there at home keeps me going sometimes. I might not be able to send another letter any time soon, so I just wanted to say hi. _

_Love, Harry._

He took Ron's letter for the Weasleys' and slipped his note inside it. Wandering over to Hedwig, who snapped awake instantly within her cage, hoping for some food, lifted her leg out obediently.

"Take this to The Burrow," he murmured to her whilst stroking her neck. He then leaned right in so that Ron and Hermione couldn't hear him. "And take _this," _he tapped the small letter within the first one, "to Ginny. OK?"

She nipped his finger affectionately and took off out the window.

Hermione looked worried. "She won't … she won't be followed, will she?"

"No," said Harry confidently. "It's not like we're staying in one place more than a few days."

And they silently watched her disappear into the stormy midday sky.

- - - - -

It was still raining hard when Harry, Ron and Hermione trekked through the one-horse-town of Little Daft and they had to bow their heads against the roaring wind and the stinging rain.

Ron kept turning to Hermione in regular intervals to check that they were on the right track.

"Are you sure that we're going the right way?"

Hermione shook her head in an exasperated sort of way. "You never have faith in me, do you? Why don't you try and trust me for a minute?" she said, nettled.

Ron fell silent, muttering something about 'always trusting her.'

Within ten minutes, a very large hill came into view and, though it looked quite a way away, there was a visibly large house on the very top of it.

Hermione turned to Ron with a self-satisfied smirk on her face.

"Well, I guess that's it then," said Harry. Far away, the house appeared very imposing and rather derelict, silhouetted against the iron grey sky. But once they got closer it simply looked like a very comfortable mansion. The hill was steep and by the time they had gotten to the top of it, they were soaked to the skin, shivering and breathing heavily.

"Must've been under an enchantment," said Harry. "That's why we couldn't see it for what it was far away; so Muggles can't find it."

"Yes," Hermione agreed. "And it'll probably be Unplottable too.

A large sign in front of the grand house read "_Original House of Helga Hufflepuff. Open to the Public from 10 until 4."_

"We're cutting it a bit fine," said Hermione. "It's half past three now."

"There won't be anyone in there now," said Ron. "It's raining hard. Nobody with a brain would come to the house of the dimmest of the founders on a day like this."

"She wasn't _dim, _Ron," said Hermione reproachfully. "She was one of the two greatest witches of the age. That's why Voldemort wanted to steal her relic and turn it into a Horcrux."

Ron shook his head. "Yeah, well, You Know Who isn't exactly stable, is he?"

"Shall we go in?" Harry suggested in an attempt to avoid another argument.

There was an instant musty smell the moment they entered the large hallway. An old chandelier hung from the centre of the ceiling before a wide wooden staircase led the way upstairs to what appeared to be the first landing. The wooden floor beneath their feet was panelled and freshly polished, yet the stale smell would not exit their nostrils.

"Wow," said Ron, clearly awed by the sheer size of the hallway.

On the walls there were moving portraits of wizards who were plainly drunk, or very simple, vacant expressions on their faces. Next to these pictures were large plaques with information such as _"Helga Hufflepuff's favourite Aunt Mabel, died 1645." _There were lots of information points around the hall and they continued up the hallway.

Harry spotted an information desk straight ahead of them, which should supposedly have been manned but was at that moment empty. Harry moved forwards and rang the bell on the desk. There was no movement anywhere.

"Sensible sod's probably gone home," Ron muttered.

"No, it'd have been locked if they closed early," said Harry.

"Maybe there's some visitors already here," Hermione suggested, looking around – but they could hear no one.

"Let's have a look around," said Harry. "And stick together."

They moved into the first room, which was roped off halfway down the middle, presumably to preserve the carpet and wallpaper which was looking rather worn. Green velvet chairs stood next to a large bay window which was not emitting much light as the sky outside was so dark.

"Looks like my great gran's front room," said Ron. "Stinks of _old lady._"

"She wasn't that old when she lived here," said Hermione knowledgably. ""This was her parent's home too, so there may have been quite a few living here at some point. She didn't begin teaching until she was in her later twenties, so Hogwarts would have been founded …"

Hermione kept up a flow of learned information about Helga Hufflepuff as they explored the rest of the house.

There were five rooms downstairs along with the large old fashioned kitchen with many of the original cooking implements and a typical black and white tiled flagged floor.

The upstairs had six bedrooms, all fairly large, yet Hufflepuff's bedroom held plenty of information about herself, there was no clue to indicate that there was a Horcrux hidden anywhere.

And then, after all of them had relaxed somewhat and loosened up their tense muscles, there was the sound of the door banging downstairs. All three of them froze, looking at each other and holding their breaths. A voice came ringing upstairs.

"Hello?" It sounded like a very old woman. "Anyone still visiting?" she called again. "I'm locking up now!"

Hermione turned to Harry. "Shall we leave?"

"No," hissed Harry in a hushed whisper. "I want to look around some more."

"But she'll lock the door!"

"Are you a witch, or what?" said Ron in an agitated undertone.

There was a sound of soft footsteps coming up the stairs. Without a second thought, Harry dived under Hufflepuff's bed, Ron quickly following. Hermione looked momentarily scandalised, as though they were desecrating something sacred, but Harry grabbed her wrist and dragged her under.

The old woman didn't come in the room – in fact she appeared to just be doing her rounds. She turned frequently on the spot, as though she was constantly forgetting something and muttered to herself constantly. Harry had to elbow Ron in the ribs twice to stop him from laughing out loud, yet he himself was forcibly reminded of an eighty year-old Trelawney.

When the front door banged closed they heard a very loud click, like a lock clunking into place. Breathing a sigh of relief, they emerged gingerly from underneath the bed.

"Right. Now we know we won't be disturbed, we can keep looking," Harry said.

But they looked, and they looked … and they looked, but found nothing. After splitting up twice and reporting back with nothing, Harry was beginning to feel distinctly unconvinced. Had Voldemort really hidden the cup here? He began to doubt Borgin's information …

As though she could read his mind, Hermione spoke. "Borgin was telling the truth, Harry, I could tell. It's got to be here somewhere."

Harry threw his arms up angrily. "What have we missed? There's got to be some thing … something that he would have wanted to use … something symbolic …"

"Tell us about Hufflepuff, Hermione," said Ron seriously.

"If you'd only clean out your ears, I have been, Ron," she said angrily.

"Tell us about a secret chamber, or something," said Ron hopefully.

Hermione adopted a sarcastic voice. "Oh, yes, I left the bit out about the secret chamber on purpose! Because it's really funny to go around in circles and keep looking!"

Ron opened his mouth to retort, but Harry stepped in.

"Look, this is getting us nowhere – just shut up a minute; I need to think … I need to …"

But he stopped, looking at the plaque on the wall opposite him.

"… _due to Helga Hufflepuff's marvellous stew, they were instantly married …"_

And one that he had seen downstairs …

"… _best subject was Herbology, largely due to her intense interest in cooking plants and their flavoured properties …"_

… And even just below that one underneath the stairs. Harry ran to it and stared at it.

"… _became an incredibly accomplished cook, whose recipes are widely used today …"_

And finally, "_… favourite room was her kitchen, which she prized as the best kitchen in the whole of Somerset before leaving for Hogwarts …"_

"The kitchen …" Harry mumbled, turning to the kitchen behind him. "It must be something in the kitchen …"

"Why?" said Ron, perplexed.

"Slytherin's locket was hidden underground, like it was in a dungeon …" Harry spoke very quickly, striding towards the kitchen. "Because of all the connections with Slytherin … even their common room is in the dungeons at school … Marvolo's ring was inside his own ancestor's house … it goes with character … why not do the same for Hufflepuff?"

They reached the kitchen and looked around expectantly as though expecting to see the Horcrux directly in front of them. Harry looked all around, crossing the roped off areas and ignoring Hermione's anguished gasps of, "You can't go there!" He picked up the old copper pots and pans, looked under the stove, even put his head in the huge open fire oven. But found nothing.

Hermione shook her head. "I don't think there's anything here, Harry."

Ron looked as though he privately agreed yet said nothing.

Harry turned finally to the stone walls and put his hands on them. Unsurprisingly, they were cold, but the second he touched them, he experienced a very odd feeling … something that he had not felt before … an incredibly strong magical presence.

"Touch this wall," he said quickly to Ron and Hermione. They both put their hands out to the wall and held them there for a few seconds before looking confusedly at him.

"I don't feel anything, Harry," Hermione said slowly. And yet Harry could not explain it to them … it suddenly felt like the whole room was alive with magic … it was buzzing … and then suddenly he got it. He remembered vividly back to the cave when he and Dumbledore had gone in search of the fake Horcrux to no avail … how when Dumbledore had suddenly stopped because he had felt something, and then pulled the no longer invisible chain out of the water to reveal the boat … Harry must be feeling something similar.

More convinced than ever that this was now the place, he feverishly searched the wall for another clue, running his hands over it. Seeing nothing and ignoring Ron and Hermione's worried looks towards him as though he had recently lost his mind, he moved right away from the wall and stepped back so that he could view it from a distance.

He narrowed his eyes as far as they could go, willing himself to see something … and miraculously, he did see it. Blessed as he was with t he ability to see things that others often did not, (as had helped him so often in his Quidditch matches) Harry moved closer to the spot where he had just seen what he had been looking for.

As he came nearer to it, he couldn't understand how he hadn't noticed it before. Holding out a trembling hand, he pointed to Ron and Hermione.

"What?" said a confused Ron, but Hermione had gasped.

"Oh my goodness … it's a badger!"

And there, formed by the brickwork and the roughened edges of the crumbling stone was a clear image of a badger. It was almost as though time had sculpted it out of the stone, and now they all looked at it, it was more obvious than ever.

"How did you know that would be there?" said Hermione, looking at Harry in awe.

"Had a feeling," replied Harry. He ran his hands over the badger and pushed it, but nothing happened.

"Wait a minute … wait a minute!" Ron said suddenly, as though he was a proud toddler who had just come up with the answer of two plus two equalling four.

He held his hands up dramatically. "Remember the chamber of secrets, Harry?" he said excitedly. "Remember how we saw that snake on the tap? Remember how that meant that was the entrance?"

Harry thought … Ron was right. This was the entrance to a secret room or something of the sort … Slytherin's snake … Hufflepuff's badger … where the Horcrux may be.

Another sudden thought hit him like lightening.

"Was Hufflepuff bilingual?" he asked Hermione, hoping above hope that she would know the answer, but he needn't have worried.

"_Yes,_" Hermione said in an exasperated voice. "I told you that already! She could speak French, German, Italian, Mermish …"

"Which one was she best at?" he asked quickly.

"French, I think," Hermione said.

Harry turned to the badger excitedly. "What's 'open up' in French, or something like it?" he asked her, palms sweaty.

Hermione thought for a moment as though she was going to ask him why, but then said uncertainly, "Well, I suppose the best thing would be "_Ouvert la porte._ That means 'open the door'.

"Say it again, louder," said Harry, aware of the fact that she had spoken softly and uncertainly.

Hermione looked at him strangely, but he repeated what he had just said, and then, apparently against her better judgement, she spoke loud and clear.

"_Ouvert la porte!"_

As a large crack of lightening erupted outside momentarily casting bright white light on all three of them before it turned dark again, the wall moved– but it wasn't with the same crunching noise that the one in Godric's Hollow had made – this one slid gracefully upwards, leaving an archway large enough for a large man to pass through.

None of them breathed for a beat, and then Ron opened his mouth shakily.

"Bloody hell," he whispered.

- - - - -

* * *

**A/N: **Hey guys, sorry that took longer, I've been getting stuff ready for Uni, so I've been a bit busy! Has everyone seen the new goblet of fire trailer? Yes? It's so cool! I can't wait. Anyway, enough of my Potter-madness. Please review!

_SpiffySquee_ – I have to be quite careful what I say here for fear of spoilers, but I will say that the _whole_ message has a great deal to do with the rest of the story, and Harry will indeed have to "use his truth well."

_Ely _- gasps shock horror! You haven't reviewed until now? Grief! Please keep reviewing! Lol.

_Mystikalolo_ – Yo, nice to hear from you again! Thanks for the review, and I look forwards to reading yours when you post it!

_Randall Flagg_ – thanks for your review and the pointers. I was aware of the fact that Hogwarts was actually founded not that long ago, but for purposes of the story I had to tweak certain circumstances like that, and I guess I should have made that clear at the beginning of the story. As for the 112 year old wizard, that was a typo, it was meant to read 1122, and would therefore impress anyone!

_Kessemm _– lol you have a very strange sense of humour, but I like it! Not sure I fancy prison, so we'll leave that idea for a moment I think. I've tried writing some stuff of my own, but I get so easily bored you see, and never finish anything. And like I said in my A/N I've been preparing for Uni, so writing every day hasn't been easy, but I'll try! (And if I go to prison for fraud or forgetting my disclaimer, I shall expect weekly visits and regular updates on HP news. K?)

_SammyLyn_ – Argh no, you must access that laptop! Steal it if you must!

_Mrs Sakura Potter_ – Totally agree about Hermione – love her to bits, but she also irritated me in HBP. (Even though Harry is blatantly better at DADA than she is.) I thought about that locket in OOTP, and JK writes about it so simply that I think it must be it. I think that now it's a kind of given (or a fan accepted fact) that RAB is Sirius's brother, and my lovely reviewer Elmire suggested that the 'A' stands for Alphard, an uncle who gave Sirius a lot of money. As for Harry and Snape … you may well get a chance to see my version of how they meet … or you may not. Lol.

_Elmire_ – OK, so the first theory that you proposed is not as close as the second one … but the second one is not exactly on the right track. Lol evasive, aren't I?

_Eddie_ – lol Baldy? Love it! Thanks for the review, and I am sorry but I can't make the film come out sooner, but I wish I could! Have you seen the new trailer? It's so great!


	10. Fear

_**MARKED

* * *

**_

_Raising his bloodied and dirty hands gingerly, _

_Ron spoke in a faint voice, __"I'm gonna go out on a limb, and say _

_that I don't like soulless dead things."

* * *

_

**TEN: Fear**

All three of them stood rooted to the spot, staring straight into the gaping opaque hole in the wall that they had just made. It looked incredibly dark inside and they instinctively lit their wands, thereby casting a faint and eerie yellow glow between them.

"But …" Hermione spluttered. "But … it's – it's too simple … it _can't_ be here …"

"Well we can't leave it, can we?" said Harry strongly. Now more than ever he could feel the magical vibes emitting from the dark space in front of him, so much so that it made him shiver. They were like ripples, invisible ripples in water which he could feel all the time.

He turned to them both seriously. "Listen. Once we're inside, you have to remember that it's Voldemort who is trying to protect this thing. If it was easy to find, you can bet anything that it won't be easy to get. I need both of you to _swear_ that you'll do what I say, even if it sounds stupid."

"Course we will," said Ron immediately. "Wouldn't enter somewhere like this with anyone but you, mate."

Hermione nodded. "No, neither would I … but, Harry … if we're up against Voldemort's enchantments … we probably won't be able to get it at all … he'll have made it impossible …"

"It can't be impossible," Harry answered, recalling Dumbledore's words as they had entered the cave all those months ago. "Because Voldemort would have needed to make sure that _he_ could get to it if he needed to, like if he wanted to check on it, or take it some place else."

And with that, he took a deep breath and turned to enter the dark hole in front of him, feeling, rather than hearing, Ron and Hermione behind him.

The air was instantly freezing, so much so that Harry breathed in sharply in shock, the cold atmosphere piercing his lungs.

Harry was aware that the space into which he was walking was very narrow, but was careful not to touch the walls for what ever reason.

After they were all within the darkness, there was a sudden loud crash behind them. Hermione let out a little yelp of surprise and Ron leapt a foot in the air … the stone wall had slammed shut behind them. Hermione ran to it swiftly.

"We're trapped!" she moaned, pushing at the wall. "_Ouvert! Ouvert!"_ But nothing happened even as she hammered on it harder.

Ron looked oddly pale in his wand light. "What now?" he said to Harry.

"I've got an idea how to open it," Harry said slowly, a thought occurring to him. But he didn't want to divulge this thought to Ron and Hermione. Yet.

"What?" said Hermione hurriedly.

"It doesn't matter right now," said Harry. "If we're going on. Just trust me," and they fell silent, following him.

The passageway wound round to left and right, up and considerably down, until Harry was sure that they must now be in some underground cavern, possibly underneath the cellar of the house. The ground became earthier, until it was distinctly muddy and their feet stuck a good two inches into the muck.

After what felt like half an hour of struggling in the slippery conditions, they came to their first barrier. It appeared that there was a wall of solid earth directly in front of them, firmly blocked, impassable.

"Reducto, d'you reckon?" suggested Ron.

Harry looked doubtfully at the earthy wall and put his hands to it. It was moist with condensation, but nonetheless unyielding.

"You could try it," he concurred.

Ron rolled up his sleeves dramatically and cleared his throat.

"_Reducto!"_ he shouted loudly and clearly.

A beam of orange light burst forth from his wand and hit the earthy wall and ricocheted off onto a nearby stone wall, denting it, but leaving no imprint on the earthen wall whatsoever.

"Well, it was worth a try," said Hermione. "But I suppose that this kind of enchantment's impermeable to spells like that."

"Maybe there's a password or something," said Ron. "Something only You Know Who would know."

"No," said Harry immediately. "It's not a door, it's an obstacle."

This did nothing to lighten the mood.

"There might be one spell that _could_ work …" Hermione said quietly. "It's supposed to return solid objects into a different property, so this solid earth would just become liquid mud, and we could get through it."

Harry though that he had heard of this spell before; they had covered it in Charms when they had turned water into ice and vice versa. Even so, he thought that it was more than likely that Voldemort would have obviously thought of that. However he didn't have any other current ideas, so he heeded Hermione.

"Go on then. Be careful."

Hermione pointed her wand towards the barrier. "_Liquefy!"_

There was an electric blue beam of light, a squelching noise and the earthly wall began to crumble into a soggy, disgusting paste, opening up the way before them.

"Well done, Hermione!" said Ron excitedly. "See? Didn't think of everything, did he?"

They stepped back slightly as the wet mud cascaded along the passage way a little further towards their feet, but stopped just short as the barrier was almost completely gone.

"Right then," said Ron, obviously enlightened by their success and, pulling up his trouser legs, waded through the now gooey passageway. Hermione wrinkled her nose before doing the same; but hoisting up trouser legs made little difference as they were still covered in mud when they emerged onto drier flooring.

Harry waited a second, still wholly unconvinced that it would be that simple, and then followed Hermione a little way through … but no sooner had he stepped into the viscous sludge he felt the reassuringly solid ground beneath the mud disappear beneath his feet.

There was an awful squelching, sucking sound, and Harry could feel himself descending further into the mud, as though he were being sucked down into a giant plughole.

Hermione screamed and Ron whirled around on the spot where they were both safe. Surging forwards, they reached out desperately to grab Harry's hands, but he was now waist deep in the newly made mire. It suddenly became horribly clear to all of them that this was no ordinary quicksand.

"_Harry!"_

Harry kicked his legs as forcibly as he could but it became harder and harder to move them as the mud around him closed in like cement.

"Get back!" he yelled at Ron, who had just stepped closer to try and reach him. "STAY BACK!"

Through a haze of foggy terror, Harry thought desperately … t_here must be a failsafe … there must be some way to reverse it … it can't be impossible … it can't be … _Ashis brain worked wildly the mud came up to his ribs, freezing his arms painfully… _reverse it …_

"REVERSE IT! REVERSE THE SPELL!" he gasped at Hermione, straining to keep his head above the mud, his muscles screaming out at their forced use against the smothering bog.

Hermione, who had been wringing her hands in despair with wide terrified eyes, grabbed her wand in white-knuckled hands and pointed it at the bubbling mud …

…Harry was up to his neck …

"_RECTIFY!"_ she bellowed …

… It would surely suffocate him … any second now …

And, as quickly as it had happened, the mud became earth … hard, crumbly earth. Harry's head was just above the level of suffocation and he wrenched his arms upwards in a shower of dirt, looking gratefully at Ron and Hermione's anguished faces.

"That was lucky –"

But no sooner had Ron said this, Harry felt something grab his ankle in a vice-like clasp from directly underneath him and he sunk a little deeper back into the earth … but even as this happened he knew what it was … what it could only be that chilled his whole body to the bone… _Inferi._

In his own whirl of panic, Harry knew that Hermione reversing the spell had been the failsafe he had been searching for, but, as had happened in the cave … the only way to survive was to perform it … and in so doing they had activated the tortured souls waiting patiently beneath their feet … because Voldemort had planned it so …

Harry groped for the earth in front of him, trying to wrench himself free of the fleshless soggy, icy grip that had hold of his ankle, but even as he kicked out hard, two Inferi burst out of the no longer dormant earth.

Hermione shrieked very loudly so that it echoed around the passageway. Abandoning all inhibition, Ron flung himself forwards to where Harry was still trapped and grabbed both his arms. In one almighty wrench, Harry slowly came free, the grasp on his ankle relenting as they both toppled over further back into the passageway.

"What _are_ they?" Hermione cried, trying to Stupefy more figures emerging from the earth.

"Inferi!" Harry bellowed, straightening up. As though from a previous life, distant memories of how to defeat them came into his brain … _like many creatures that dwell in cold and darkness they fear light and warmth …_

"Fire!" he yelled, throat hoarse having inhaled a lot of dry earth. "They hate fire!"

Ron and Hermione raised their wands. "_Incendio!" _they yelled, simultaneously, jets of blue flame emerging from their wand tips and keeping the Inferi at bay for a few precious moments.

But even as he regained his breath, Harry knew that Ron and Hermione's spells would not hold any Inferius at bay for long. Mustering all his strength and concentrating all the particles of his being on the spell he must perform, Harry raised his wand high above his head.

"_Incendio Máximo!" _

Feeling its heat pass over him as the white hot flame erupted from the tip of his wand with a force of a high speed train, Harry was forced to step backwards as the fast growing fire he had created hurtled over Ron and Hermione's heads and encircled the Inferi, binding them within their own earth prison.

In spite of themselves, Ron and Hermione looked back at Harry in disbelief.

"Move!" he yelled at them. "Move back!"

And still holding his wand aloft, amazed at what he had achieved, they stumbled backwards as the glowing fire and the ghostly Inferi became fainter and fainter. As soon as they had all completely crossed the threshold of where the earth barrier had stood minutes before, there was a loud bang like a gunshot and the barrier was newly reinstated to its original place. The only difference was that Harry, Ron and Hermione were now on the other side.

- - - - -

None of them bothered to light their wands immediately as they were plunged into darkness the moment the fire was shut off from view. They simply leant against the wall and panted.

Harry eventually lit his wand and looked into the faces of his two best friends. Dirt spattered and completely out of breath, they looked terrified, bruised, but nevertheless unhurt.

"Are you OK?" he asked shakily, still flexing his limbs and relishing the use of them again.

Raising his bloodied and dirty hands gingerly, Ron spoke in a faint voice, "I'm gonna go out on a limb, and say that I don't like soulless dead things."

Hermione let out a reluctant laugh whilst straightening up and dusting herself off.

"Why did that not happen when _we_ crossed?" she asked, pulling Ron shakily to his feet.

Harry thought that he already knew the answer, but knew that telling them would not raise their morale in the slightest.

"I think it's got something to do with magical power …"

They looked at him quizzically and he confided what was in his head.

"When I was in the cave with Dumbledore, and we had to get into a small boat, I asked him if it would take two of us, and he said that it wouldn't measure weight but magical power. Because I was underage at the time, it didn't register mine at all … so we were OK."

"But … _I'm_ overage now …" said Ron. "It didn't register mine."

"So am I," said Hermione, flexing her elbow. "The Dark Forces in this place must have seen _you_ as the threat, Harry … even though we're qualified; our powers didn't register because we're young …"

"That must mean your powers are _huge_," said Ron, looking half impressed, half worried. "It didn't even notice us," he added in a slight undertone.

"That doesn't matter," said Harry having felt as equally useless that night in the cave. "That's Voldemort's mistake. He wouldn't have expected you to get this far. More fool him."

Both Ron and Hermione looked as though they felt slightly happier as he said this. Harry raised himself off the ground and tried to siphon off some of the muck with his wand. He felt a sudden pain in his ankle, remembering that he had shaken of the Inferius with some considerable force.

He pulled off his trainer, still thick with mud, and his equally black sock to reveal a purplish blue and rapidly swelling ankle.

"Ouch!" said Hermione. "That looks really painful!"

Harry stuffed his shoe on and tried not to grimace. "Nah, it's just bruised."

He tested his weight; it _was _painful, but that didn't matter. They couldn't turn back now.

A few minutes later, they were all on their feet again and moving down the darkened passageway, Harry doing his best not to limp. The air was, if possible, even colder here and their breath rose in a misty fog in front of them. The passageway too was wider now; so wide in fact that it appeared to be more like a really long chamber with no apparent end in sight.

As they had been walking for so long, they were tired, sweaty and dirty and thus did not notice the ceiling becoming lower as the chamber narrowed once more.

Harry flung out his arm.

"Something's different," he said.

"What?" Hermione asked anxiously. "Can you feel something?"

Harry moved tentatively forwards. There was definitely something different here, he could feel it, some kind of a trace – it was making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and he didn't like it one bit.

"Blimey! Look!" said Ron suddenly, pointing a little further down the passageway. "It's the cup!" he said excitedly.

They all strained their eyes. Sure enough, there was definitely something twinkling innocently down the other end of the passageway and as their eyes adjusted, they could see that the passageway ended.

Harry's heart began to beat very quickly. _What now?_

Ron made to run forwards but Hermione grabbed the back of his collar.

"Wait."

Sure that the danger was by no means over, Harry looked at his feet and saw that there was a single loan rat scurrying along the edge of the passageway. It was a common black rat with mean little eyes and a scavenging look about it, but it had given Harry a sudden idea.

Lighting his wand so it shone with a faint willowy light, he shone the beam at the unsuspecting vermin, which turned tail the moment it realised that it had been discovered and scurried off in the opposite direction, away from them, and towards the Cup.

"What are you – ?"

But Harry held up a hand to silence them.

They waited a few seconds on tenterhooks before the rat was really out in the open, and then suddenly Harry clapped his hands loudly.

The rat leapt into the air … and was immediately speared by a huge sword which apparently had come out of the low ceiling above them, but then was gone.

Hermione raised a hand to her mouth and Ron cursed under his breath. Harry had been ready for something like this and so said nothing.

"What on earth do we do now?" Hermione asked, her hand still shaking.

"There's got to be a way," Harry said quietly, almost to himself.

"Yeah," Ron began. "A way that doesn't involve one of us becoming a kebab on a stick like that poor bugger!"

Harry began to pace up and down the safe part of the passageway.

"He had to get in … _he had to be able to get in …_"

"Maybe some kind of spell – ?"

Harry shook his head. "No … no this is different … this is the end of the test … it's not a spell …"

Ron looked at the dead rat with revulsion. "Well if it's not a spell, it's got to be something you do yourself, like a test of character or something."

Harry looked at him. "A test of character … yeah, maybe …"

Hermione also looked at the rat, but it wasn't with the distaste that Ron had; more like she pondering an Arithmancy problem.

"The rat wasn't killed until you clapped your hands like that … why? Why did it not happen until then?"

They all paused, deep in thought but lost in their own fear; they could all hear each other's hearts hammering within their chests.

Ron put his own hand to his chest and then opened his mouth. "Fear …" he whispered.

"What?" said Hermione.

Ron's eyes were wide and he looked like he had just been hit by a bolt of inspirational lightening.

"Harry frightened it when he clapped his hands! It was only stabbed when the magic surrounding the Horcrux realised that the rat was _afraid_ … so it _couldn't_ have been Voldemort … that's it! It's all to do with fear!"

_How appropriate,_ thought Harry. _Voldemort trying to pretend that he wasn't afraid of death or darkness … _when Harry knew he secretly feared both.

Amazed with his own brilliance, Ron couldn't help but beam with superiority. Hermione was looking at him proudly, but Harry, whose mind had been made up in that instant, strode towards the Horcrux.

"Harry, no! What it it's not right?" Hermione gasped, trying to grab his arm.

Harry stopped and looked at her. "Then we'll find out."

He knew that it had to be him … Ron had been right and he couldn't ask either of them to do it … it was _always_ going to be him.

Clenching his fists as he walked, he tried to think of the one thing that would take his mind away from the terrible fear that was making his very bones shake … _Ginny._

As he walked, as though in slow motion, he could distantly hear Ron and Hermione shouting and screaming at him to come back, but they became more and more distant until he could here them no more. Even the pain in his ankle was gone.

He remembered that moment when he had realised how he had felt, that moment when the monster within his chest had risen unexpectedly and erupted with jealousy when she had been kissing Dean … and then the moment when they had won the Quidditch cup and she had run up to him with that look upon her face … how he had kissed her without fear, without trepidation. How, for once, it had been wonderful to have been gossiped about for something that was making him happier than he could remember for a long time … for when he was with Ginny; the whole world seemed to disappear and nothing else entered his head … when he was with Ginny, they spoke about stupid things he had never talked to anyone about, even Ron and Hermione, she had really cared for him … as more than just a friend … how he knew that she still did …

"_Harry! You did it!"_

Hermione's oddly distorted voice ringing through the chamber brought him out of his daydream and he realised that he had nearly walked into the Cup, which was sitting on top of a stone ledge at the end of the passage.

It was exactly as he had remembered it from the Pensive; still as shiny and gold as it had been back then, the large badger embossed on its side in gold filigree; it was a magnificent piece of treasure.

He looked back at where Ron and Hermione stood – they were oddly hazy, as though a sheen-like mirage hung between them and him.

Harry looked at the Cup … if it was a Horcrux … something would undoubtedly happen when he took it … and so he braced himself. It would only be a matter of time before the magic within the room realised that he was _not _Voldemort.

He shouted back at Ron and Hermione as loud as he could, not sure whether or not they could hear him.

"Get ready to run … fast, OK?"

Ron waved his arms, apparently to indicate that they could hear him, and so Harry held his breath.

He grasped the handle of the Cup … and for a moment, nothing happened. The handle was oddly warm to touch; he had expected it to be cold. And then it started.

Where his hand had been moments before, a huge spear-like sword came from above him and impaled the stone ledge that the Cup had been standing on. Rock and stone fractured in an instant with the force of the blow, showering Harry with great chunks of granite and leaving deep cuts in his hands and on his arms.

He turned sharply and ran for his life, ran as fast as his legs could carry him. Behind him he could hear the ground-shaking and deafeningly loud clunking of swords hitting the ground, inches behind him. As he sped up, a non-existent wind whipped at his hair and he actually thought that he felt one of the spears catch his hair before it plummeted into the ground behind him, desecrating the floor. Even though his ankle felt like it was going to explode from the throbbing pain, he paid it no attention and ran faster.

"RUN!" he yelled at Ron and Hermione, but they didn't need telling twice. "_RUN!_"

So they ran – they ran until the stitches within their sides became so severely painful that their bodies were screaming for them to stop, and yet they did not. They ran and ran until they came to the earthy wall.

Harry aimed his wand at the barrier as he was running … the quicksand would not pull them under on the way back … it didn't matter now.

"_Liquefy!"_

The wall disappeared.

It was only then that they realised the spears had stopped – but they had forgotten about the Inferi.

Dead and yet wholly mobile, they staggered towards the wheezing three who could not catch their breath.

Ron sent jets of fire over his shoulder to keep them at bay for as long as it took to reach the end of the passageway … it must be soon … it _must …_

And there it was … the sealed doorway.

"But it's shut!" Hermione wailed frantically.

"Don't worry …" Harry panted in sharp stabs. "I know what to do …"

He turned to Hermione … and received a shock that almost drove him to his knees … an Inferius that had broken free of the others was on top of her.

"HERMIONE!" Ron yelled, surging forwards into it, but it wouldn't budge an inch and began to drag Hermione, who was screaming in terror, backwards towards the thickening mud …

Harry reached out frantically towards the wall and wiped his bloodied hands on the doorway … _please work … please …_

And a thankful sliding noise told him that it had … as before, Voldemort demanded a blood payment to exit this time, rather than enter …

And still Hermione was grappling with the Inferius. Harry knew that if they didn't get it off her soon, there would be no escape. Somehow, Ron had managed to throw it off of her with a mixture of brute force and anger, but now it appeared to have him around the neck, trying to drag him back into the muddy depths instead.

Harry threw a curse at it, realising it had gotten used to the fire.

"_Sectumsepmra_!"

He knew it wouldn't harm it, but it had the desired effect … although gashes appeared in the already dead flesh and though the lost soul had no blood to spill, the Inferius was momentarily stunned, and dropped Ron.

This was all he needed, and he grabbed Hermione and raced with Harry towards the already closing door … metres from it, they flung themselves into a sideways roll … scraping under the doorway as it shut behind them.

The Inferius's whole body didn't make it, but its hand did. It moved grotesquely and wildly despite having been almost severed. However it appeared however that the doorway was no less forgiving and snapped the rotting limb off with one final push before slamming completely shut.

Too exhausted to even be disgusted, the three of them remained where they lay on their backs in the total darkness of the seemingly innocent house, next to the now invisible doorway, breathing hard. Harry had the Cup clasped tightly in his hand.

Ron spoke finally, still clutching Hermione to his chest.

"You know … I reckon they realised … you weren't Voldemort."

- - - - -

* * *

**A/N: **Oh, the excitement! I got so excited when I wrote that, and I visualised it all in my head! He he! So if you like … please review!

_Elmire_ - Can't believe I forgot to ask your help with the French! Lol, it's cos your english is so good, you see, I forget! (Begs for forgiveness.) Hope you got your laundry done.

_Madame-S-Butterfly - _Yes, we will see some more of Ginny at some point, but you will have to wait! lol.

_Mrs Sakura Potter _- Doh! Did I really have Hermione spelling it wrong? (oops.) Oh well never mind. Also, let's relish in the thought that Hermione was in fact wrong for one and that the house wasn't unplottable! Hurah!

_VoidArts - _Glad you're enjoying it, but like you said youself, this IS fanfiction, and anyway, who says that Harry is the heir of Gryffindor? Heir or not, this is based on the books, and there may be a few intentional/unitentional potholes here or there, but like I've said to a few others, it is sometimes necessary to tweak the circumstances for purposes for MY plotline to work. As for the Snape thing - well spotted. That is, as I said, one of my unintentional potholes.

_SammyLynn - _yes, correct, they are searching for the Cup ... but you probably know that after this chapter lol. I'm off to read your new chapter right now!

_mthukral - _Thanku very much, that's very sweet.

_kessemm - _I think Harry may have answered your Q here - Voldie is not aware anyone knows about his Horcrux's and so there wouldn't be anywhere 'obvious' to hide them. Also, even if someone found the place, he would certainly not expect them to be able to retrieve it. But yes, I hope that JKR doesn't write something like this ... else I might actually go to prison lol. 

_Blizzard Phoenix - _Don't worry, I won't abandon, but updates may be a little slower, seeing as I'm off to uni on Sunday and things might take a little longer than I wish!


	11. Food For Thought

_**MARKED

* * *

**_

"_Raining, is it?" Ron said amusedly._

_Hermione scowled at him. "No, I fell in the river."

* * *

_

**ELEVEN: Food For Thought**

They had since vacated the kitchen on account of the rotting limb protruding from underneath the now invisible doorway. They were now sat in the hallway of Hufflepuff's house and Hermione had lit several of the candles with her wand. Lighting the lanterns, she had said, might attract too much attention from outside.

Ron was sitting on a long couch, wiping his face and hands with a damp cloth.

"Now what?" he said, scrutinising the Cup in front of them. "Will You Know Who realise what's happened?"

Harry shook his head. "No, I don't think so. His soul's too torn up to notice anything detached from it."

"Did Dumbledore ever show you how to destroy a Horcrux?" asked Hermione tentatively.

Harry shook his head and took off his right shoe. "No. The ring completely killed his hand … so that'd mean it's not easy, but on the other hand, I just stabbed the diary with a poisoned fang, so I guess that was simple enough."

"And did anything happen … when you'd done that to the diary?"

Harry thought and said in what he hoped was a sarcastic voice, "Well, I was slowly dying from Basilisk poison at the time, so I can't really remember. There was a lot of green light."

Hermione looked ponderous. "Maybe we could just … I don't know … smash it?"

Harry doubted that this would be the answer, but still didn't have any other ideas. After all, perhaps it was the simplest way that would work for once …

"Maybe …"

Hermione raised her wand and, pointing it at the cup, shouted loudly and clearly, "_Reducto!"_

The orange beam of light bounced off the Cup with a loud and solid clang.

"Impervious to magic," she muttered.

"To magic, maybe … but what about …"

Harry looked around him over to the fireplace at the end of the hallway. Next to it was an old brass stoker. He strode over to it and picked it up, wielding it in front of him.

"Stand back," he said to Ron and Hermione and they shuffled out of the way.

Harry raised the stoker above his head and brought it down upon the Cup with about as much force as he could muster.

It hit the solid gold object with a loud reverberating clank. On reflex, Harry made to bring the stoker up again, but found that he could not – in fact, he couldn't move anything at all – everything was frozen. The next moment, he felt excruciating pain within his own head … it was not only a pain but a truth, an awful horrible truth crashing down like thunder and was like he himself was speaking … only it wasn't his voice …

_It's all your fault … everything that's happening … it's your entire fault …_

Harry struggled against the buzzing pain pressing in on him from all sides, but it was taking him away from everything he knew … from everything he could remember …

_You can't stop this … you are but a tiny fly within this world … you mean nothing …_

The pain was unbearable … Harry had never felt like this in his life, so powerless, so utterly useless … and at the same time, oddly, so willing to believe it was true …

_They'll all desert you eventually … you are nothing to them really … _

And Harry thought against his will that, yes, they probably would …they would leave him … because he wasn't worth following …

_If you only gave up years ago … if you'd only given in … you could have stopped all those murders … all your fault …_

Maybe it was all his fault … his parents, Sirius … Dumbledore … but was it? Even though the pain was excruciating, Harry could still see, however dimly, the path that lay ahead of him, the path that he had carved for himself … and nothing, not even the powerful dark magic within a Horcrux was going to stop him …

_Just give up … let it go … let him win …_

No, Harry answered his own brain, and a sudden surge of hope, of knowledge that there was a fight to be fought entered his own muscles, his own being … and the voice was getting dimmer.

_Stop … stop …_

And with an almighty wrench, Harry pulled the stoker upwards again, and, as if it had only just been hit, the Cup shattered into a thousand fragments in a haze of yellow light. Harry thought he heard an echoing yell of fury which was possibly within his own mind ringing throughout the hallway as the Cup was destroyed.

Panting, he looked towards Ron and Hermione and saw with a sudden start that they were holding heavy objects too.

Ron was holding a bust of what looked like Hufflepuff's father and Hermione was gripping a long wooden curtain pole.

"What did you do?" Harry asked them both breathlessly as he sank to his knees massaging his head.

"We whacked it as well," said Ron thinly. "We saw you were struggling … we didn't know what kind of magic it was … but we whacked it anyway."

And suddenly Harry knew, with a sudden rush of affection towards the both of them, where that immediate strength at the end had come from … it hadn't been wholly him that had just destroyed that Horcrux … it had been not only his own resilience, but also that of his two best friends … it had been they who reminded him that he must carry on … that it was only him that could do this.

Despite his gratitude, Harry was half-angry with them. It was the terrible thought that they had been subjected to what he had just been that he couldn't bear … so many times Ron and Hermione had watched, listened or indirectly imagined what Harry had been through with regard to Voldemort … but now, they had to go through something _with_ him …

"That was really dangerous," he said seriously. "You had no idea what it was going to do … you could have been killed –"

"– So could you," Hermione cut in. "But you still did it. I didn't think twice."

She looked oddly worn, like she had been crying for days or just received news that someone very dear had died …

"What did you hear?" Harry asked them. He knew it was a personal question, but he asked anyway.

Hermione shook her head and let Ron answer first.

"It was weird …" he said. "It was like it _knew_ me … it was telling me that I was the most useless of all of my brothers … that this was too big for me … and I believed it for a second as well."

Hermione looked up. "It … it said that – that I didn't belong … that I was a M – Mudblood … that you wouldn't stay with me …"

Harry shook his head. "Magic. It was dark magic, designed to get inside our heads … to what we fear the most, to make us believe what we fear."

He thought then, that what had just happened may have been the very same thing that Dumbledore had experienced that night in the cave that he drank that awful potion … perhaps he had heard voices within his own mind that he had been forced to believe … but unlike Harry, he hadn't had anyone to share the experience and draw strength from … his only companion had just forced more potion down his throat … and it had all been for nothing …

He wrenched this awful memory from his mind.

Harry looked at them seriously. "I couldn't have done that without you two …"

"True," Ron said with a true smile this time.

Harry knew, though he had been told on a number of times that he resisted the Imperious Curse and Voldemort's sway over people well, but still he knew that if Ron and Hermione had not been there that particular time, the magic in the Horcrux would very possibly have made this the end of his quest.

"I can't believe I ever thought twice about doing this on my own … I just … well – thanks."

There was a pause, broken by Hermione, who rushed forwards and hugged Harry tightly around the neck. Harry allowed her to for a few moments before looking over the top of her head at Ron with an expression that clearly said, "_Girls._"

- - - - -

Once back in their small little hotel room in the village of Little Daft, it became clear to Harry that his ankle was badly sprained, but thankfully not broken. He tried the "_Episkey"_ spell on it that he had learned from Tonks the year before as a result of Malfoy's most recent attack on his nose, and it reduced the swelling and the pain somewhat.

Hermione had a rather bad cut on the back of her neck from where the Inferius had tried to strangle her. Harry had used the same spell on it as he had used on his ankle, and although it was reduced in size, it was proving a little more stubborn than Harry's ankle.

"It needs some kind of dressing on it," said Ron, "like a little cream and a plaster."

"Well I can reach it," Hermione said, her hand straining behind the back of her head. "Just pass me that box …"

"I can do it," Ron insisted. "Mum made me take this little kit," he added, picking up a green first aid kit. Opening it he took out a bottle of Mrs Crippler's Cut Cleaning Cream (_when the spell just won't work on that stubborn smudge!) _and a see-through plaster. "She got these in Diagon Alley a little while back – once you've put them on, they're invisible and they dissolve themselves. Clever, eh?"

Hermione held up her hair awkwardly as Ron dabbed gently at her neck. Feeling rather hot around the collar, Harry disappeared into the bathroom and left them to it.

He took out the little notebook that he now kept in his pocket wherever he went and, sitting on the edge of the bath, began to record the latest in it.

_Destroyed the Cup. Leaves three possible Horcruxes._

Harry put his quill on the sideboard and flipped back through the book to re-read what he had written.

_The locket, the cup, the snake, something of Gryffindor of Ravenclaw's …_

The fake locket was still in his possession, and thus the real Horcrux still at large … the cup was gone, he thought as he crossed it out with a certain amount of satisfaction …

_Dumbledore said he was curious about Nagini, Voldemort's snake … possible that she is a Horcrux. _

That was going to be difficult. Harry had not even begun formulating a plan on how they were going to kill Voldemort's pet snake.

_Nothing in Godric's Hollow except a message:_

_He Who Hath Found This Place,_

_Know Your Truth And Use It Well._

_Not understood yet – must mean Voldemort is using something of Ravenclaw's as another possible Horcrux._

They would have to do some research on Ravenclaw next. Harry did not know anything about Rowena Ravenclaw except that in her house it was intellect that was prized.

_Slytherin's Horcrux is the locket; Voldemort used a ring also … possible that another Horcrux is a piece of jewellery. _

Ravenclaw's symbol was a bird … would that be significant at all?

Raising himself from the edge of the bath, Harry resigned himself to interrupt Ron and Hermione.

As he entered the room, Hermione was holding Ron's hand and peering at it cautiously. They looked up and saw Harry; Hermione let go of Ron's hand really quickly.

"Well I don't think you've broken it," she said briskly.

Harry ignored this and said what was on his mind. "Hermione … do you know anything about Ravenclaw?"

Hermione stared at him. "Of course I do," she said in a slightly affronted tone.

"Did she have any … you know, prized possessions?"

Hermione thought for a moment. "Well, there's a few I can think of off the top of my head, but I'll have to check …"

"Like what?" said Harry eagerly.

"Well … there are some famous family heirlooms of course, but I suppose that's the same for lots of famous people. And then there's her books, obviously –"

"– her books?" said Ron.

"Yes," Hermione answered, frowning. "She was an intellect - she wrote books and kept safe the ones she learnt the most from. But I wouldn't know which one Voldemort would most likely use as a Horcrux, if at all."

"Then we'll have to do some digging," said Harry in a resigned tone.

Ron nodded. "Best to get some sleep first though."

And with that, he yawned, stretched out his arms behind his back and was promptly snoring before his head even touched the pillow behind him.

- - - - -

Hermione was up at the crack of dawn and it was her incessant riffling through pages and pages of books that woke Harry up. It was so early that the sky outside was dimly lit with a faint blue, purplish light – the sun hadn't even risen yet.

"Hermione …" Harry muttered groggily. "What are you doing?"

Hermione looked up, her eyes bright. "I've been researching of course!"

"What, all night?"

"No, don't be silly. Only the past few hours."

Harry shook his head, marvelling at Hermione's dedication. He swung his legs out from underneath the warm and comforting covers and went to sit on Hermione's bed.

"Look at this," she said, thrusting the book into his hands. "There's hardly anything about Ravenclaw's treasures or things like that in any of the books, not even that book I got about the four founders. They're mentioned, but not in as much detail as her books. There are three books that keep getting cropping … two that she wrote herself and one that she had read from cover to cover from the age of four – it was that book that inspired her to learn more, to become one of the cleverest witches of all time."

Harry rubbed his eyes sleepily. "So where do we find these books?"

Hermione scratched her head. "Well, now we're into guesswork really. There's a Ravenclaw museum up north somewhere … but I'm sure that I've heard about a library dedicated to her – because of all her books. It might be there."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "If it's that famous, it won't be easy to get our hands on it … and we can't be sure that it's a Horcrux either. And I suppose if we find it in a library, we can be pretty sure that it's not."

"Well, it's worth finding out …"

"What are you two doing?" came Ron's voice from the other side of the room. He was looking very much still asleep but suspicious all the same.

"Researching," they said simultaneously without looking up.

"Oh," Ron muttered, and went back to sleep.

"Where's the library dedicated to Ravenclaw?" said Harry.

Hermione frowned again. "I'm not sure … I'll find out. I saw another library in this village on our way in, and seeing as it was Hufflepuff's home town I'm sure there'll be something about Ravenclaw somewhere."

Already dressed, she muttered "See you later" to Harry and disappeared out of the door. Harry was very glad that she was with him, for he doubted that he could ever be that proactive.

- - - - -

Harry had dragged Ron out of bed and down to breakfast two hours later under serious protest. Ron, it appeared, always enjoyed a lie-in on Saturdays. Harry ignored this and had continued to poke his best friend until he had no choice but to get out of bed and into the bathroom.

They were half-way through their bacon and kippers when Hermione emerged through the front door of the reception. She was very wet with her hair limp and straggled, her coat soaked through. She nevertheless looked very positive.

"Raining, is it?" Ron said amusedly.

Hermione scowled at him. "No, I fell in the river."

Harry choked on his egg.

"That library is in Wales," Hermione said with as much dignity as she could muster. "I asked around at the local information desk, and it was quite hard to get any information about _anything _that wasn't Hufflepuff," she said with a disapproving sniff, "but I managed."

"So how do we get there?" asked Ron.

Hermione sat down and began eating some of Harry's potatoes with a spare fork.

"Well it just so happens," she began through a mouthful of potato, "that my parents used to like to go on holiday in Wales, in a little place called Betws-y-Coed, which ironically is where this library is based."

"How's that gonna help us?" said Ron, out-chewing Hermione with a mouth positively bulging with bacon.

Hermione looked a little worried about what she was going to say. "Well, I could Apparate there."

Ron nearly choked on his bacon. "Wales is a long way, Hermione! You might end up in Belgium or somewhere like that!"

"Just because you left an eyebrow behind in your test doesn't mean that I will," said Hermione loftily.

"_Half _an eye-brow!"

"Look," said Harry in a pacifying tone. "We could try it – you know, Side-Along Apparition, if she knows where she's going."

Ron continued to look grumpy and began to mutter about his eyebrows. Harry and Hermione however took this as a concession to their plan and continued to share the potatoes off the same plate, Harry hoping beyond hope that, this time, they might just be on a roll.

* * *

**A/N: **Sorry if that chapter lacked a little in the excitement of last, but I wanted to tone it down a tad, as nearer the climax of this story, the action will be non-stop! Argh! This may sadly be my last "every-other-day –update" as I am going to Uni tomorrow. HOWEVER I promise to try and do it at least every week give or take so please keep reviewing! (Also I need reviews to cheer me up because I am down about leaving behind my mummy and daddy  ).

_Hazel Maraa – _Lol glad you're comfortable! Perhaps I really will get you off the seat next time …

_Artemisa27 – _Aw you legend I love that score! I'm going to study film music at Uni … tomorrow!

_Mrs Sakura Potter – _Don't worry – I feel exactly the same way about Harry/Snape … can't wait until they meet in my fic … hope you like!

_Kessemm – _Like that idea. Slight problem though … er we have no proof. And I was thinking like maybe split it 70 30.

_Elmire – _I haven't heard of Fortier – may be I'll check it out! Hope your exam went well!

_Misty and Ken – _wow thank you, it really makes me feel good when people say things like that.

_April – _Oh no I'm worried you'll stop reading now I can't update EVERY day! Please don't!

_Alix33 – _Chartered means sort of mapped out, um – like controlled by humans. For example, the river Thames in London is chartered. It can also mean an agreement (charter). Can't remember how I used it in my story though … Oh, I know that I got Lily/James' dates wrong … I improvised as my mum was borrowing the book! 

_Lana – _oh I feel all special. Lol. Especially if you're picky.


	12. An Intellectual Detour

_**MARKED

* * *

**_

"_Harry … you do realise that ... all those Death Eaters … they'll be in there, don't you? Lucius Malfoy?"_

_Harry's face darkened. "Yeah I know … I'm looking forward to it."

* * *

_

**TWELVE: An Intellectual Detour**

Harry gripped Hermione's elbow as tightly as he could and braced himself for the unpleasant sensation that he had come to associate with Apparition. Ron in turn took hold of Harry's elbow but he looked much more sceptical than Harry was letting on he felt.

Hermione, quietly confident, spoke in a positive voice. "Everyone ready?"

Neither Harry nor Ron answered her for fear of breaking her concentration.

Hermione screwed up her face in apparent concentration on her destination. Then, she turned with great confidence, and Harry doubled his grip on her arm.

It felt just as horrible as ever it had done; feeling as though he were being compressed from all sides, Harry held his breath tightly and waited for it to end.

As he opened his eyes, he knew that they had definitely travelled somewhere. Hermione was looking exceptionally pleased with herself and looking around in great interest.

"Is this the place?" Ron asked.

"Yes," said Hermione proudly. "It's been ages since I was here – if only I'd known about a Ravenclaw library when I was younger … it sounds fascinating."

"Well done," Harry muttered, patting Hermione on the back.

They were standing in an old courtyard with a small church behind them, a small little sign propped up against the wall saying "_Betws-y-Coed". _

"So how the bloody hell d'you pronounce that then?" said Ron, pointing to the sign.

Hermione looked at him pitifully. "It's 'Betoosy – Co – ed'."

Ron looked thoroughly confused and shook his head. "Well, that's just a stupid name."

"It's _Welsh,_ Ron."

Harry looked around. They had definitely travelled some way; the village of _Betws _appeared to be situated in a valley, surrounded by steep mountains on which white dots that Harry supposed were sheep balanced precariously.

"So where's the library?" Harry asked.

Hermione looked around. "It's quite a small village so it must be quite … _there._"

Hermione pointed up the street with her finger at a smallish building coated in a blue marble stone. It looked old and oddly hazy and Harry suddenly realised that it must have been similar to places like The Leaky Cauldron in terms of Muggle enchantments. The more he looked at the building however, the more defined it became.

"It's so odd seeing that here," Hermione mused as they walked towards the library. "Almost like I was totally ignorant for the first eleven years of my life …"

"Well, you were. In a way," said Ron.

They neared the entrance (which appeared to Muggle passers-by as a disused building site) and pushed open the door. The hallway was brightly lit with a highly polished mahogany floor leading up to a desk.

The library was by no means as large as Hogwarts but it had rows and rows of musty books spiralling into the middle of the room where a small witch with thick black glasses sat behind her information desk.

"How can I help you?" she asked them in a brisk but light voice as they approached.

"Er … hi," said Harry uncertainly. "Is this the library dedicated to Rowena Ravenclaw?"

The small witch twitched her nose and indicated upwards with her eyes. Harry looked above his head and saw the large sign situated atop of the panelled roof of the desk.

_The Rowena Ravenclaw Library_

_Founded by Mrs Natasha Kapok, _

_A lifelong follower._

"Oh, right," Harry said, feeling rather stupid but determined all the same to follow up this very possible lead.

"How can I help you? Besides telling you where you are?" said the witch coolly.

"We were wondering if you could tell us a little about all of these books," said Hermione.

Ron looked sideways at Hermione as though he knew this would take ages and gave her a look that said plainly he had no desire to learn about _all _the books.

The witch looked a little more pleased at this with the opportunity to show off her knowledge.

"Certainly," she said brightly. "I can take you on a tour if you wish."

"Oh, you know, we don't really have much time –"

Hermione stood on Ron's foot and cut him off. "That would be lovely, thank you very much."

The witch stood up and set off ahead as Harry and Ron exclaimed gloomy looks.

- - - - -

It was deathly boring, even by Harry's standards and comparable experiences of enduring Professor Binn's History of Magic lessons. Harry and Ron trooped after Hermione, who was at the witch's heels, hanging on her every word. Harry tried to keep up with what the witch was saying in case there was anything specific mentioned, but there had been nothing intriguing so far.

" … Of course we have got the codified parts of that volume in the restricted section," the witch was telling Hermione. "And Ravenclaw in fact documented the release of that book in the earliest version of the _Daily Prophet_."

Ron yawned very loudly.

They were climbing the stairs at the back of the library into a darker section which was shrouded in numerous curtains.

Harry had zoned out for a moment, his brain fuzzy with trying to continuously sift out all the useless information the witch was giving them from the important things … but he didn't have to work hard to know that what she said next was very important.

" … And here of course is where the most famous book stands …"

Harry jerked his head up. There in front of them, encased in a glass cabinet was a very large, very old book.

"Why is this famous?" he asked her quickly.

The witch opened her mouth, but Hermione spoke before the witch did, almost like they were back in school and she was trying to earn a few house points.

"It was the first book that she ever had published … when she was very young. It influenced witches and wizards all around the world for centuries to come, and the way that they used magic."

Hermione and the witch continued to converse for several minutes whilst Harry and Ron had a hushed discussion.

"D'you reckon that's it, then?" Ron hissed.

Harry opened his mouth but then looked more closely at the book … it was famous, so it would have provided a great pull over Voldemort … but in the back of Harry's mind, something told him that something didn't quite add up. This was just… it was almost _too _obvious. Having learnt quite a large amount about Voldemort thanks to Dumbledore's 'lessons' during the previous year, Harry was quietly confident enough to presume he knew the Dark wizard fairly well … and he couldn't see him choosing this as a Horcrux.

Slowly, in answer to Ron's question, Harry shook his head. "No … no it's too obvious."

Ignoring Ron's quizzical expression, he looked at the witch who was still in full flow about Ravenclaw's first book.

"Excuse me … sorry to interrupt, but did Ravenclaw ever have any …" He thought hard about what Voldemort might have used. " … Did she have any notebooks that she recorded anything in? Like anything in rough?"

The witch frowned.

"Why do you ask?" she said suspiciously.

Harry shrugged. "Just curious I suppose."

The witch folded her arms. "Well … Ravenclaw often kept notebooks about her work and her writings …"

"Did she keep any rough copies of that first published book? The famous one?"

"Yes … well she made plenty of notes about her findings … and she kept some personal information in a notebook … it was all edited down for purposes of the main book to be published … lots was cut out. But that was all stolen, of course."

Harry blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"Oh yes, taken from within the very library itself. Just that one book to be precise … the notebook containing the bulk of Ravenclaw's notes and her personal experiences … Mrs Kapok was _most _upset … it was her who dedicated the books in the first place …"

"When was it stolen?" Harry asked in an urgent tone.

The witch looked upwards, apparently thinking hard. "Oh … must have been near on thirty years ago now … I had only been working at the reception for a year."

Harry looked quickly at Ron and Hermione, knowing their brains must be working as fast as his was … _thirty years ago_ … Voldemort would have been right in the midst of broadening his chances of immortality … a perfect time to make one of his Horcruxes …

"Do you have any records about the theft?" Hermione asked.

The witch looked slightly disgruntled that her audience were no longer interested in the life and works of Ravenclaw. She pursed her lips.

"Perhaps. It may take me a while to find them."

And she disappeared down the stairs with Harry, Ron and Hermione behind her.

They waited for fifteen minutes whilst the information witch rummaged in a room off to the right. She emerged soon enough with a harassed look on her lined face.

"I have the original report from the Magical Law Enforcement Squad and there are numerous _Prophet _Articles."

She put them on the front desk in front of them and Ron stretched out his hand to pick them up. The witch snatched them away quickly however.

"Oh no! You cannot have the originals!"

She tapped the pieces of paper in front of them with her wand and duplicate copies appeared. Harry took them in his hands and looked to the witch.

"Thank you," he said.

- - - - - -

"Are you _sure_, Harry?" Ron said an hour later as they sat on the grass underneath a beech tree in the sun. "I mean, wouldn't you have thought that it'd be that famous book? Wouldn't that be more important?"

"The notebook contains everything Ravenclaw found out," Harry said. "Everything that led her to write that book … it's more important than the real one because it has everything in it – you heard that witch; it had to be edited."

"I suppose it's a bit like Riddle's diary …" said Hermione. "He probably chose this because it has all the work in it … and personal records from Ravenclaw herself."

Harry nodded. "Exactly. The fact that it was stolen pretty much tells us that it _is _a Horcrux."

He flipped through the pages of the copied _Prophet _the witch had given him.

"It says here that the break in occurred at night … obviously … they say "_it was feared that You Know Who may have been responsible for the break in"_ – so Voldemort must have been known by the wizarding world by that time … so this Horcrux must have been one of his last … _"but Magical Law Enforcement were unable to confirm this." _Well they were a bit crap, weren't they?"

Hermione nodded. "The actual report states that they remanded someone in custody … he was sent to Azkaban for it when they charged him … but it all sounds a bit woolly if you ask me because they never recovered the stolen notebook."

"Yeah, well that's the Ministry all over, isn't it?" said Harry bitterly. "It doesn't matter if you've done the crime or not, just as long as it looks like they're doing their job they don't care who they put away."

Ron scratched his head. "You reckon he's still there?" said Ron. "In Azkaban?"

"Might be. What was his name?" Harry asked Hermione.

"Wallis Cromwell."

Harry racked his brains but he couldn't think of anywhere he had heard that name before.

"It says he left a wife and three children behind … odd really, isn't it? To risk your family like that."

"Not if you're a Death Eater."

They all contemplated for a moment the horrors of Azkaban.

"We should go to Azkaban," Harry said after a period of silence.

Ron and Hermione looked at him.

Ron cleared his throat and said in a very small voice a few octaves higher than usual, "Er … go to Azkaban?"

Hermione too looked a little apprehensive. "Harry … are you sure?"

Harry had never been to Azkaban. As he thought of it he felt a sudden involuntary chill spread through his bones … it was the place associated with the Dementors, and yet even though they had abandoned their posts as the guardians of the prison there was the additional horror of knowing that it was the place Sirius had been kept a needless prisoner for twelve years, twelve years for a crime he didn't commit …nor did Harry need anyone to remind him that all the Death Eaters he had named were currently imprisoned on the marooned fortress, probably planning his death in more ways than one.

And yet he knew he would have to overcome this … he had to go there. If that was the only lead they had now … they had to go.

Harry looked at them. "Look, I know I've said it before, but I'll say it again. You don't have to come with me."

They opened their mouths to speak.

"– No, I mean it. I know it's daunting, but I'm going to Azkaban. And you don't have to come with me if you don't want to."

They looked at each other and then back at Harry.

"We've had time, Harry …" Hermione said quietly. "You know we're with you … wherever you go."

- - - - -

They had a head start in finding the way to Azkaban prison seeing as Ron's dad had since visited it more than once in the previous months.

"It's off the coast of Dover apparently, with all the Muggle _ferrous_ or something like that."

"_Ferries, _Ron."

"Yeah, them. Then we have to go to the disused terminal and punch in the code."

"What's the code?"

"Dad wouldn't tell me … but you don't grow up with Fred and George and learn nothing."

Hermione smiled at him.

"They got the old Extendable Ears out when Dad was having a private conversation with mum … heard a bit of stuff I'd rather forget … mum and dad alone, I tell you. It's embarrassing." He shuddered. "Anyway, I thought they might come in useful. It's 2346 1824."

"Wow. Good memory," said Harry.

Ron looked faintly pleased with himself. "Once we're in they ask who you're visiting and give you a Portkey across the sea. It's all heavily done up with security of course, but they assume if you know the code, you've been given it before to visit someone you're related to."

Hermione had an odd expression on her face; it was not one of fear, but she looked as though she dearly wanted to say something.

"Harry … you do realise that ... all those Death Eaters … they'll be in there, don't you? Lucius Malfoy?"

Harry's face darkened. "Yeah I know … I'm looking forward to it."

- - - - -

Harry, Ron and Hermione stepped off the Muggle bus only to be hit with the salty smell of the sea on the harsh wind. The wind which came off the sea whipped their hair and chilled their bones.

The sky was an overcast grey and did not inspire good feeling about what they were about to do.

Ron stuffed his hands in his pockets as he walked. "Blimey … if my mum knew what I was about to do …"

"Don't think about it, Ron," said Harry.

"There's the disused terminal," said Hermione, pointing to a run down looking warehouse on the end of a row of newer looking ones.

Before they entered the darkened building, Harry pulled out a black woollen hat and pulled it over his head, which at least concealed his hair and his scar.

"Looking good," muttered Ron.

"Shut up," Harry retorted.

The punching in code box looked distinctly broken, but Harry had had too much experience of knowing that things were not all they seemed in the magical word. He slowly punched in the numbers Ron had recited and waited.

For a moment, nothing happened. And then, very suddenly, the huge ribbed metal door shot upwards for them to enter.

Once they had left the relative gloominess of the sky outside, they were plunged completely into total and complete darkness. All of them froze, feeling something unnatural about the absolute opaqueness of the area.

For a second or two, all they could hear was the sound of their own quick breathing and then a voice echoed through the darkness.

"State your names, please."

Harry cleared his throat. "Jonathan, Bill and Alice Cromwell."

"State whom you are visiting, please."

"Wallis Cromwell, our father."

There was a pause and something old and patched, like an old boot, glowed blue out of the darkness. Harry recognised it as a Portkey. Waiting for them to be cleared, he held his breath. But there was an uncomfortably long pause.

"One moment, please."

Ron turned to Harry quickly. "It shouldn't take this long," he said in a worried voice. "There's something wrong."

Harry had made up his mind before the voice finished its sentence. They couldn't afford to be found out now, they couldn't afford to be sighted or reported on if there was the slightest chance that Voldemort would find out what they were up to.

"Would you all follow me please –"

"_Muffliato!"_ Harry yelled, pointing his wand at the unsuspecting voice.

With the spell causing an unidentifiable buzzing within the ears of the Portkey guard, Harry, Ron and Hermione rushed forwards to the glowing object in front of them.

Harry felt a familiar jerk in the region of his navel and felt as though if he were dissolving in a sickly whirl of colour, Ron and Hermione at his side.

- - - - -

* * *

**A/N: **Sorry that took so long, I'm at Uni! Feeling very homesick at the moment, so … you know. Anyway. There will be a lot more action in the upcoming chapters including trouble at Azkaban, somebody finding out what they are up to, a _final _meeting with Snape and of course … Voldie. Please review and enjoy!

_N.B: Just to say, I appreciate reviewers pointing out minor points I may have missed, such as the dates of Lily and James's deaths, and Snape/Voldemort but I should make it clear that for purposes of this story, I have had to change the dates of Gryffindor and the founding of the school._

_Alix33: _I'm glad you thought that it was moving – I try to keep a balance between action/emotion blah, blah you know. I'm going out today to buy my mum her own set!

_SammyLyn: _Lol, no really it's just mindless nonsense. Can't wait for your new chapter!

_Mselanious: _I'm sorry it took so long! I don't actually like being at Uni if that's any consolation. But I'm glad I can take the pain away from your wait for book 7.

_Hazel Maraa: _Oh no! Don't choke on your tic tac!


	13. The East Wing

_**MARKED

* * *

**_

_Harry knew who had hold of him the second the_

_fingernails dug deeper into his neck; Lucius Malfoy.

* * *

_

**THIRTEEN: The East Wing**

_Harry felt his feet slam into the ground suddenly before him and did his best to keep his balance. Ron was unsuccessful in this feat and fell flat onto his face only to be helped up by Hermione. When they had regained their composure they stood up gingerly and looked around; Hermione gasped._

They had been transported to the top of what appeared to be a large stone tower with crumbling turrets beneath their feet. Harry glanced over the edge of the immensely high platform and saw black, unforgiving waves crashing mercilessly onto the island below them.

It was as though they were on another planet; the weather had changed its climate and the skies were dark and menacing sending thunderbolts as loud as gunshots down to the fortress of which they stood in front of.

"Oh my god," muttered Ron, turning away from the edge of the tower, looking rather green, and then up at what could only be the entrance to the prison.

Black stone coated in age and grime acted as the outside walls of the immense bastion of Azkaban. Huge grilled iron doors could be glimpsed if one narrowed their eyes against the blinding rain, and Harry thought he could see a lantern bobbing in the distantly dim light.

"State your name and business please!" came the voice from the lantern. As the voice came closer, Harry could see a small, possibly dwarfed man in a long black travelling cloak shuffling towards them, the light clutched in his hand.

"We're here to see our father!" Hermione called out. "Wallis Cromwell!"

The old man edged forwards and peered into their faces as though determined to detect a forgery.

"Cromwell hasn't had any visitors for ten years," he said suspiciously. "Where did you catch the Portkey from?"

"Dover," said Harry, hoping against hope that the guard back in Dover would not get the message that they were impostors through to Azkaban quickly enough.

The little man frowned. "Very well …" he muttered, and walked off leading the way.

"Don't s'pose it really matters who gets _in_ anyway," he said. "It's who gets _out _that's the problem, isn't it?"

Harry nodded in silent agreement. The little man raised his wand and muttered a quiet and soft incantation. There was a small vibration which ran through the air and a dim violet light shimmered through the rain. Harry recognised this as the undoing of a charm to keep the prisoners in.

Even though the Dementors had left Azkaban, their essence undoubtedly remained and Harry watched Hermione pull her cloak tighter about her shoulders to keep out the chill.

The little man cleared his throat. "So why are you suddenly visiting your father then?"

"Er, it's been a while," said Ron.

They neared the great iron doors and the small man took out a very large and ornate gold key, unlocking the doors. They creaked open with protest and Harry, Ron and Hermione entered behind the little man.

A long and dark corridor awaited them lit only by guttering torches in the walls. The stone floor was old and cracked in many places and Ron tripped twice. It was very much like what Harry imagined Death Row would look like, with iron barred cells on both sides of the corridor with a single bed and a dirty toilet. The corridor was very narrow and Harry could see that it was very long and forked at the end to left and right.

"The East Wing," said the little man waving his hands up. "Don't reckon you remember much of it, last time you was here."

The three nodded convincingly.

"Your father was moved to the West Wing last month due to … circumstances that demanded more space."

Harry could only assume that this was a good thing because the Ministry must have caught a few more Death Eaters. However bearing the Stan Shunpike incident in mind, Harry was forcefully reminded not to assume that any of them were likely to be real Death Eaters. This thought made his blood boil with anger … would the Ministry never get it right?

Harry turned his head as they walked and looked in on the sorry inhabitants in the cells. Some were simply in an apathetic state, lying on their beds or else on the floor, staring up at the ceiling whilst others peered hatefully out through their bars at passers-by, their hands gripping the metal bars until their knuckles were white. One prisoner actually made to grab Hermione's coat as she passed but Ron grabbed her elbow and steered her away whilst the little man leading them drew his wand and shot boiling water into the face of the prisoner.

Hermione gasped at this sudden violence.

The man looked at her. "You have to let them know who's boss," he claimed. "Now the Dementors have gone, they think they're gonna have an easy ride. Well they're wrong, aren't they?"

Harry wondered silently whether or not he approved of the methods they were witnessing in the prison. He thought of all the convicted Death Eaters and how, in his opinion, they deserved everything they got, but then he was struck by the memory of Sirius, stuck here for twelve years … not guilty. How many more of these prisoners were innocent?

They had just finished climbing a second flight of stone stairs and the little man stopped.

"This is the West Wing," he said. "Wallis Cromwell's cell is right at the end." He indicated down a passageway, narrower than the first.

"You can speak through the bars, but do not attempt to enter the cell. _Do not _speak to any other prisoners. If there are any problems, please alert me immediately."

And he shuffled away, lantern bobbing in the dimly lit corridor. They waited for him to go and then Harry advanced on the final cell, wand raised defensively.

Wallis Cromwell did not look up immediately. He was sitting on his bed with his back to them and remained in this position for a good minute. Ron cleared his throat loudly and slowly but surely, the prisoner turned around to face his unexpected visitors.

He had a sunken face with skin like yellowing parchment. His eyes were unfocused and he looked as though he were suffering from a permanent nightmare. He held out his hands in front of him, as though hoping to touch something that only he could see. Ron and Hermione took two hasty steps backwards.

Crowell opened his mouth, dry and cracked as it was, as though he had lost all use of it from not speaking.

"W – who's there …" he mumbled, eyes not fully opened. He was like a grotesque parody of a newborn baby with his sleepy eyes and total unawareness.

He stood up shakily. Hermione, abandoning all pretence, moved as far away as possible from him, but Harry was struck by a sudden idea … he had been prepared to use all methods necessary to get this information out of Cromwell … but if he was careful, they might not need to …

Cromwell was at the bars of his cell now, staring unseeing at Harry.

" … Who … who is that?" he mumbled through yellow and crumbling teeth.

Harry cleared his throat. "It's … it's me, dad," he said.

Ron and Hermione looked at him, clearly confused.

Cromwell narrowed his eyes even more.

"Is that … is that my son? Is that … _Johnny?_"

Ron's expression turned to one of sudden understanding.

"Yeah, and Billy and Alice are here too."

Cromwell's eyes filled with tears, even though he clearly could not see properly.

"My children … my beautiful children …"

He groped out through the bars with blackened and filthy fingers, reaching for their hands. Harry looked down revolted and hesitated. Ron however reached out and took Cromwell's hand bravely.

"It's been … it must have been ... thirty years … my loves … where is my Emily? Where is my wife …?"

Cromwell was clearly deluded; his long spell in prison having addled his brain and this must have been why he was seeing what he wanted to see rather than what was really there. Harry felt extremely thankful for this stroke of luck; he had not planned on finding Cromwell insane.

"She …" Hermione began. "She couldn't make it, father … I'm sorry."

Cromwell began to sob, loudly. Harry couldn't help thinking that whilst this was all well and good and a good plan of his, that Cromwell must realise soon that they were not his real children – no matter how much he wanted them to be.

"Listen, father," Harry began, trying to shift Cromwell's mind away from his lost family and back to what they were trying to achieve. "We need to know what happened, the day you were arrested."

Cromwell was muttering under his breath at someone that no one could see.

Ron shook his hand a little impatiently. "Father …"

"Why … I never told you … my children you were too young … I loved you so …"

And he dissolved again into a mass of sobbing.

Ron let go of his hand, a sickened look on his face. Harry straightened up, thinking that perhaps this was going to take longer than he had thought.

And then, Cromwell began speaking with his head in his hands, not looking at them, which suited Harry fine.

"You … you mustn't judge, my children …it was thirty years ago …"

Harry believed that Cromwell couldn't see them as the eighteen year olds they were and not the age that his children should be, but it suddenly struck him that perhaps the little man who had led them there might realise soon enough that they were in fact _not _the Cromwell children – or else the guard back in Dover may have gotten a message through. Either way, they could not waste any more time – he was sure that they wouldn't be in that much trouble; they weren't doing anything illegal, but he couldn't afford _anybody _to find out where they were or what they were up to.

"I was … I was recruited … to the Dark Lord's service when I was … very young …"

"Skip the prologue …" Ron muttered under his breath so only Hermione could hear him.

"Oh god …" Cromwell muttered. Harry refused to feel sorry for him, even though he was trying to grasp his hand and never let it go, thinking he was the son he had lost all those years ago … _it was his own fault, _Harry thought savagely … _he's part of the reason all this is happening … _

"I … I was given a mission … it was – it was such an honour … you have no idea my children …"

They waited patiently for him to continue. He took a deep shuddering, rattling gasp and continued.

"I was to … to steal a document … it was very important to the Dark Lord …"

"Why?" said Harry suddenly, so suddenly in fact that Hermione looked at him warningly.

Cromwell panted, as though the memories of his previous life were causing him enormous discomfort.

"He did not say … he only told me … it was _very … important …_"

Harry nodded to himself – Dumbledore had told him that only Voldemort believed that only he himself knew about his Horcruxes. There was no way he would divulge the information to such a follower as Cromwell.

"So I … I was given the codes for the library … the library where this document was …and I entered at night … and I stole it."

"Weren't you caught?" said Ron, thinking that this was why Cromwell was here.

"No … I escaped … and presented the Dark Lord with the document …he took it gladly … and said I would be rewarded beyond my wildest dreams …"

"Right," said Ron, looking in at the little cell. "Wildest dreams. Got it."

Harry elbowed Ron.

"But there was a problem … because I … I was curious … the Dark Lord told me he would tell me all … but days passed and he did not … one night he left somewhere … and I followed him …"

"Yeah, lots of people do that," Harry muttered under his breath, thinking of Borgin, but Cromwell of course couldn't hear him.

"I followed him … to an old castle in … in …"

"Yes?"

"In Devon …"

Harry looked quickly at Ron and Hermione – this was the most specific information they had had yet – but there were bound to be plenty of old castles in Devon.

"He … h – he found me, of course … the Dark Lord always knows … said I was too … too curious … warned me not to tell anyone."

"Why didn't he just put a memory charm on you?" asked Hermione.

"He did … they fade … it's been thirty years, my child … I have only recalled this in … the p – past few years … but now of course, it is too late …"

He buried his head in his hands and sighed deeply.

"Within two days of my discovery … my discovery of where the Dark Lord was … I was arrested."

Harry scratched his head. "So he set you up, did he?"

Cromwell shrugged. "I can only assume … I can – I … wait …"

Harry looked up quickly. Slowly and yet surely, Cromwell's eyes were becoming less unfocused, a state of comprehension gradually dawning on his prematurely sunken face.

"You … you are not my … my Billy …my Johnny … who … _who are you?"_ he blurted out suddenly, eyes wide with fear.

Harry stared at him; a long and cold stare that even made Hermione blush.

"We are the people who are going to stop _your Lord._"

Cromwell blanched. "You – you lied to me …"

"Yes, we did."

Harry slowly pulled off his hat to reveal his scar, his expression blank, fathomless.

If Cromwell looked frightened before, that was nothing compared to the expression he wore now, recognising Harry. He began to breathe erratically.

"You _… you're _the … the _Boy Who Lived!_ Harry Potter!"

Harry nodded coldly. "And you've just signed your life away, Mr Cromwell."

Cromwell grabbed at Harry's robes not violently, but desperately. "You … he will kill me! I was the only one who knew this secret … if … if you know, he shall know that I … that I …"

"That you're a treacherous piece of scum that deserves everything he gets?"

"_Please … _is there nothing I can do …" Cromwell begged, grappling at Harry.

Harry pulled himself out of Cromwell's grasp and looked at him with a calculating expression on his face.

"You know, there was a time that I might have felt sorry for you, Mr Cromwell. You've got a family, a wife, all of that, so that might have been a redeeming feature once. But d'you know what? It's people like you – weak, sheep-like followers – who are the main contributors to the destruction of this world and the murder of innocent people. Innocent people like my parents. So, no. There's nothing you can do."

Harry began walking away, Hermione and Ron following but looking hesitantly back at Cromwell as they did.

Without looking over his shoulder, Harry called out, "Enjoy your next thirty years."

- - - - -

Ron and Hermione did not speak the whole time they followed Harry back down the corridor. Neither of them had ever seen him so cold, so unfeeling before and the total lack of emotion within him was beginning to scare the both of them.

Harry was walking a little further ahead.

"Harry," Hermione eventually called out. Harry appeared not to have heard her.

"_Harry!_"

He turned. Hermione reached out and put a hand on his arm.

"Are you OK?"

And before her eyes, the hard, frightening look leaked away from his demeanour and Ron could see his best friend again.

"Sorry," Harry said. "I just … I don't know. One of _them _asking for _my_ help … I wanted to kill him."

"But you _didn't, _Harry," Hermione said calmly. "And _that _is what makes you different from him. From_ all _of them."

Harry nodded and then looked around him. He had been walking so quickly with so little regard as to where he was going that he appeared to have made a wrong turn down a different corridor and now, it seemed, had no idea where they were.

"Er …" Hermione glanced around them somewhat nervously. "I think we're in … I think we're in the East Wing …"

Ron stared at her. "What?"

Harry frowned. "Why's that a problem?"

Ron had suddenly gone very white. "My dad told me once … all the most dangerous … the ones with the highest security … they're all in the East Wing."

Hermione's eyes widened to the size of galleons.

"We should leave!" she said quickly, looking around for the nearest exit. "We can't Apparate until we get past the enchantments of the outer wall – that's for obvious reasons … but I think our best bet is … _that _way," she said, pointing her wand ahead of her so that it glowed green.

"Locator spell," she explained. "We came in from the North entrance so this way should lead us right."

Harry and Ron, who took virtually anything Hermione said as law, followed her without question.

They had been walking for about three minutes when the hairs on the back of Harry's neck stood up for reasons unbeknownst to himself. He stopped suddenly and Ron turned.

"What is it?"

"I don't –"

And in that second, a two hands flew out from the cell on the right so quickly that they were unseen for a second. In the next, they had wrapped themselves so tightly around Harry's throat that he was slammed backwards hard into the iron cell doors.

Hermione screamed.

Harry knew who had hold of him the second the fingernails dug deeper into his neck; Lucius Malfoy.

"Potter …" he hissed in Harry's ear.

Ron had darted forwards and tried to prize Malfoy's fingers off of Harry, but it seemed as though Malfoy was being fuelled by something other than strength …

Hermione pulled her wand out and tried to aim a spell at Malfoy through the bars, but she couldn't get the right position for fear of hitting Harry. And in that instant through his watering eyes, Harry remembered the last meeting with Lucius Malfoy when Sirius had been killed …

Malfoy yelled and let go of Harry, who had suddenly become impossible to hold. Harry fell forwards clutching his throat, panting against the cold stone floor. They all whirled around to look at Malfoy, who was slumped against the grimy bed cradling his burnt hands.

Harry cleared his throat and took a few deep breaths before speaking.

"Mr Malfoy."

Hermione put her hand on Harry's arm to see if he was all right.

Malfoy licked his lips. "Now what on earth brings the Chosen One to this forsaken place I wonder …?"

Harry laughed unfeelingly. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Malfoy cocked his head. "On the contrary, Potter, I have had enough news to last me a lifetime …"

Harry knew what was coming.

"The death of the great Albus Dumbledore … that one ought to keep my thoughts occupied for many a year yet."

Harry longed to blast the doors of the cell open and kill Lucius Malfoy where he stood – but he didn't.

"But your son couldn't do it …" Harry began. Hermione's warning hand on his arm tightened but he ignore her. "Your _precious pureblood _son didn't have the guts …"

"From what I hear, you are hardly one to speak."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry spat.

"Come on, Harry," Hermione moaned. "Let it go … don't let him bait you …"

Malfoy surveyed Hermione with purest loathing before opening his mouth and answering Harry.

"Let Severus go, did you? Let him escape after murdering your mentor?"

The taunt about them both fell heavily in Harry's ears so that he didn't realise he was raising his wand above his head, about to curse Malfoy. Both Ron and Hermione grabbed his arm simultaneously.

"Harry, no!"

Feeling rushed back into his brain and Harry lowered his arm. Malfoy was laughing softly.

"Act first think later, eh, Potter? Rather reminiscent of the late Mr Black, wouldn't you say? And one can only imagine where he is now …"

Harry was breathing heavily, but did not raise his wand again. Instead he faced Malfoy and spoke in a voice of forced calm.

"When you get out of here – yeah, I know you will at some point, set free of not – but when you do, I'll be waiting."

Malfoy smirked.

"When you die, I'll be there, Mr Malfoy. Just wait for that day while you contemplate your miserable existence within these walls."

Then he turned and walked towards the North exit with Ron and Hermione behind him. Malfoy sank back against his bed, still with a smirk across his drawn, grey face.

"Oh, I shall, Potter. I shall indeed."

- - - - -

* * *

**A/N: **You like? You don't like? (Don't tell me if you don't like lol.) Next chapter, they get closer to the Horcrux … and someone finds out what they're up to. 

_Templa Otmena – _Hey lou, thanks for the review! Rosie suggests Lou tells the nasty employers to stick their job so she can devote more time to writing her story!

_Clathrate_ – thanks – glad you appreciate the humour! I try to do some funny bits to break up the morbid thing.

_Signoritarosa – _Under an hour? Wow! Impressive!

_Jack a Roe – _oh, so have you been at Uni then? I am enjoying it at the mo … but work hasn't really started yet!

_Mrs Sakura Potter – _sorry there wasn't much arse kicking there – more verbal banter. But just you wait … there will be – I promise!

_Mearas – _ooh I like that. I have woven a world lol.

_Sammy Lyn – _Uni is university – the American version of college I guess!

_Alix33 – _Yes I am a 1st year. Love being a fresher! And I'm studying music. And yes, I imagined Harry looking tasty in a beanie.

_Elmire – _no, no, I didn't mean there wasn't long till the end, you misunderstood me! I just meant there wasn't long until real action-ish things start happening like a meeting with Snape etc. Thanks for the review!

_Ashley J Potter ­– _oh no, I really don't want you to die! Quick, read it all again so you get your fix!

_Melinda – _your review slightly annoyed me – despite you saying that it was a good story so far, you seem to hint that I haven't read my books properly. I openly admit, in a true loser style, that I have read every one at least 6 times. I know they can use MAGIC. The reason they don't use it in my story when they are moving from place to place is to avoid as much attention as possible from Muggles and general passers by. Also, it's hard enough getting a new chapter out every week and yes, I am aware that there may be a few grammatical mistakes here and there, but personally I feel if the story is good enough, they don't matter. I'll let my other reviewers decide that for me. (no offence to anyone with a Beta, but I personally don't wish to use one – I like doing all my own work.)


	14. Ron's Gesture

_**MARKED

* * *

**_

"_Ron, don't ever pull that again," _

_said Harry in a low voice.

* * *

_

**FOURTEEN: Ron's Gesture**

Harry, Ron and Hermione had arrived in Devon late that evening under a clear sky via Muggle transport once again. Ron had wasted no time in criticising the British train system which eventually resulted in Hermione losing her patience with his incessant whining and whacking him over the head with her suitcase.

The moaning did not stop on the train platform however; they were forced to stay in one of the smallest B&B's Ron claimed he had ever seen and Hermione too looked as though she were somewhat fed up with their ever-changing accommodation. But Harry was not going to tell them they didn't have to be there again.

"This is _useless!_" Ron mumbled hours later lying on his front on a tiny camp bed. He was flicking through a directory provided by the B&B looking for clues as to which old castle Voldemort was likely to have hidden the notebook and an unexpected rainstorm beat down on the open window.

"I concur," Harry agreed dully, closing the second largest book with a snap thus causing dust to rise in a cloud above his head.

Hermione looked as though she were dying to say something as she bit her lip and surveyed Harry and Ron with a mixture of pity and annoyance.

"What?" Ron snapped aggressively.

She shook her head. "You two really are hopeless. Call yourselves wizards …"

Harry threw the large book at her which she caught in mid-air. "Go on then," he said lying back down, exhausted. "Dazzle us with your amazing skills."

Hermione distractedly pulled her hair up into a messy knot. "There must be some way we can refine it. I can do a searching spell on the text and it'll narrow the names down considerably. How many castles were there in that directory, Ron?"

"I don't know. I lost count after number ten billion."

Hermione scowled and turned to Harry. "Can you think of anything Voldemort related that we could search for in this?"

Harry sat up wearily. There were thousands of things it could be.

"All Cromwell said was it was an old castle in Devon." He rubbed his eyes with the back on his hands making them red. "He wouldn't have just hidden it in just 'some old castle.' It'd need to mean something."

Hermione bit her lip. "OK … I'll search for anything with the four founder's names in it."

She raised her wand and muttered a few well chosen words before lightly tapping the top of the directory with her wand. There was a buzzing sound and a glow of many colours. The directory flew open forcefully at one page. Ron sat up quickly.

Hermione scanned the page and then frowned in disappointment. "No … the only thing near to anything is Ravens-brook castle. There's nothing else … perhaps … no, just Griffin End castle. That's not even in Devon."

Harry sighed and slumped back against his musty pillows.

Hermione kept at it for hours, trying different word combinations to speed up their search … but it felt to Harry like it was lengthening it. The thunder had since stopped, but the persistant rain appeared never ending. They had tried Riddle, the names of victims Voldemort had killed; they had even tried searching for names connected to Ravenclaw – but it was no use.

Ron had fallen asleep in the last hour and Harry was staring at the same patch of paper, his eyes unfocused. The light in the room was dim and his head hurt and felt all fuzzy. It was then that the name jumped out at him. He was so tired that he thought at first he was imagining it, but then as he cleared his head, there was no mistaking it. Why hadn't he thought of searching for that name before?

_Gaunt Castle._

The words appeared emboldened on the page as he stared at them.

"Hermione," he said, sitting up so quickly his glasses slipped down his nose.

"Look." Pointing at the name in the directory, he watched her as her eyes became wide, her mind registering what had just registered in his.

"Harry … that's it! That must be the place! It's his ancestor's castle! Most probably from thousands of years ago!"

As her voice grew louder and louder with every sentence, Ron jerked suddenly awake.

"Whassamatta …"

"Ron … we found it! Gaunt Castle!"

First Ron looked confused, then a little drunk, and finally he realised.

"Oh. Right then."

- - - -

It was a hideously imposing building from the outside; Harry thought that Hermione must have been right in assuming that the castle was owned by Gaunt descendents of thousands of years ago as the walls were decrepit and crumbling away. Long vines of twisted ivy hung and tangled themselves tightly around the structure, causing even more damage, as though the plants wished to strangle the brickwork. The windows, possibly the originals, were broken and dangerous and the turrets rose high above their heads, looking alien against the clear blue sky.

"Such a welcoming bunch of arses, weren't they?" said Ron bitterly.

There were rusted iron gates surrounding the old castle and ran the entire length of the outside walls. The front gate, though fortified in old stone, was broken and frail.

Ron marched up to the front gate and touched the worn sign which was only just discernable.

_Gaunt Castle._

"Doesn't look very strong, does it?" Ron said, moving closer to the gate.

Harry hung back. "Ron, I don't think –"

"Come on, it's all broken."

Harry shook his head. "_Wait_."

"Come on, I'll go first this time. Look –"

"Ron, seriously, we should –"

But Ron had walked directly up to the front gate and pushed it hard. It swung backwards and promptly collapsed with a bang and a cloud of dust. He turned confidently.

"See?"

But the second he took a step over the threshold of the gate, he was hoisted up into the air very quickly by some invisible force and hurtled backwards with the speed of a bullet before hitting an oak tree with a sickening crash.

"_Ron!"_

Harry and Hermione rushed forwards towards Ron who was getting shakily to his feet.

"Are you all right?" Hermione said hurriedly, grabbing his arms.

Ron groaned and rubbed his head tenderly. "Ouch."

Hermione touched the top of his head and withdrew her hand. "You're not bleeding … but that must've hurt."

"Oh yeah. Yeah, just a bit," he muttered sarcastically.

Harry shook his head after the realisation that Ron was not seriously hurt. "Ron, don't ever pull that again," he said in a low voice. "If I say wait, then you _wait_."

Ron looked at him incredulously. "I didn't know that was going to happen!"

Harry weighed his words carefully. "You should have. You should have known that this is Voldemort! If you want to be here, Ron, you have to listen to me!"

Ron stood up quickly so that he narrowed his eyes quickly with the head rush. "Why?Because you know better than me?"

Harry opened his mouth to answer but Hermione beat him to it.

"Yes, he does, Ron!" she said, looking as though she was trying with all her might not to make this into an argument. "He does know better than us. We're here to _help. _We said we'd do what we can!"

"That's right, take his side."

"I'm not!"

"Yes, you are."

"Well if you'd juststop being all 'gun's blazing' and listen to us for a moment, then I might not!"

Ron snarled. "Oh, so it's _us _now, is it? Don't worry that I nearly just got my head cleaved in two –"

Harry cut him off, aware of where they were and what they had come here to do. "Enough."

Ron and Hermione stared at him.

"Look, this isn't the time, or the place. It can wait."

He turned back to the monstrosity of the castle before them.

"But this can't. Now are you going to help or not?"

Ron stared at the floor sulkily. "That's what I was _trying_ to do in the first place …"

They moved towards the fallen gate slowly stopping just short of the point where the enchantment was obviously in place. Hermione held her hands up to the air, as though hoping to feel it.

"It might just be an anti-intruder enchantment. It said in the directory that it was inadvisable to visit due to its current state … so this might not have anything to do with the Horcrux at all."

"Don't count on it," Harry said. An idea struck him as he looked around at the ground near his feet and his eyes rested on a pile of logs underneath a beech tree. Harry wandered over to where the logs lay and picked one up.

"Stand back," he warned.

With all his might, he hurled the heavy log through the gateway, expecting it to be desecrated or something similar. But to his utter astonishment, the log sailed right through and landed with a thud twenty metres from where they stood near the ancient entrance of the castle.

Hermione stepped a little closer.

"Careful," Harry said lowly.

Hermione stared at the log resting ahead of them and raised her wand slowly, tracing something in the air.

"It must measure magical power …" she whispered.

Harry turned to her seriously. "Would it recognise animals?" he asked her.

She looked at him oddly. "Er … probably not. Why, Harry?"

Harry bit his lip. "How far did you get with animal Transfiguration with McGonagall?"

"Well, I mastered the basics but … wait a moment … _no, _Harry … that's far too dangerous!" she said, suddenly realising what he was getting at.

"Well, I can't think of any other way, Hermione. Can you? Either of you?" he added, turning to Ron as well.

Ron considered. "Well, not really … but what if it goes wrong? I might have to live out the rest of my life as a bloody squirrel or something."

Hermione looked rather affronted. "It wouldn't go wrong!"

"But I thought you said it was too dangerous," Ron reminded her.

"I do."

"So …"

Hermione looked torn between defending her magical abilities and reasoning with what was too dangerous.

"Oh all right then!" she said eventually in a shrill voice. "Just as long as you don't have a go at me if something goes wrong!"

"Would I?" said Harry, suddenly thinking that perhaps this was a bad idea after all.

Hermione began to look very nervous. "Now … I'm sure I'll only have to transfigure one of you, because once someone is on the _inside, _then you can lift the magical wards with a simple Lifting spell. Animal transformation only works one way with a wand – it has to, or the human animals couldn't transform themselves back again. So that just leaves you to decide … which one …"

Harry gave himself a little mental shake. This was his fight after all.

"I'll do it," Harry said. "But just make sure …"

"– No," Ron cut him off. "I'll do it. I … well I could have ruined this a moment ago, so I should."

Harry shook his head. "Ron, I'm glad you're here with me, but you can't take risks like that. I should do this, because I'm the reason we're here."

Ron had a stubborn look in his hazel eye. "Harry … you're more important than I am. If something goes wrong, then … well, to put it bluntly, the whole world's buggered."

"But I –"

"Just do it, Hermione, before I change my mind."

Harry gestured wordlessly towards Hermione, as though hoping she would side with him. She looked at Harry and opened her mouth timidly.

"Well neither of you will get hurt," she said in a slightly self-protective voice. "But Ron's right, Harry," she said more quietly. "It … it makes sense."

Harry threw up his arms and took a step back, but Hermione had already raised her wand. Ron put his hands by his sides and closed his eyes.

"How do I change back?" said Ron.

Hermione bit her lip. "It's a mental incantation. _Reversus Incantatum. _Just say it in your head, and it should … it should reverse the transfiguration."

Ron gulped. Harry couldn't believe he was letting Ron do this.

Hermione cleared her throat. "Now, I don't think we should risk large animal transformations, so I'll just do something small-ish."

Ron screwed up his eyes even more, bracing himself.

"Is a squirrel OK?" Hermione said quickly.

Ron opened his eyes angrily. "No, it bloody well –"

But Hermione had already muttered an incantation. Slowly, like some invisible force in the air was slowing it down, a pale blue shimmering light travelled from Hermione's wand and circled Ron, whose eyes were open now, unable to not watch. For a moment, the blue shimmer completely surrounded Ron, obscuring him from the human eye. Then, very slowly, the transformation began.

It started with his head which slowly retracted into his skull and became distinctly squirrel like. Then his body began to shrink which happened faster and faster, like a sped up film, so that it soon became a whirl. Then with a sudden and final bang, Ron was a squirrel.

Hermione and Harry crouched down so that they were on his level.

"Oh, Ron, are you OK?" Hermione said hurriedly. "It worked! I can't believe … well, I can, but I mean, I'd never done that before!"

Harry gave Hermione's shoulder a grateful squeeze.

"I'm sorry that it was a squirrel, Ron, but I …"

The little squirrel on the ground raised itself to its hind legs, surveyed Harry and Hermione and distinctly raised the second toe of its paw in what was unmistakably a rude hand gesture.

"_Ron!"_

The squirrel Ron turned tail and crept cautiously up to the entrance of Gaunt Castle. Hermione grabbed Harry's hand in panic as Ron got closer to the threshold … and then released it as he sailed through unscathed.

Harry let out a huge sigh of relief that he felt he had been holding ever since they had set foot on this land. Ron the squirrel turned back to look at Harry and Hermione. Seconds ticked by.

"Why is he not changing back?" whispered Hermione in a terrified voice. "Harry – what … what if it doesn't work?"

Her eyes were wide with fright and her face was pale. Harry, too horrified to think about how they would cope with Ron as a squirrel, tried to keep his face as calm as possible.

"It will work … give him a moment …"

And in that agonising wait, there was another bang, and Ron appeared in his full human form beyond the threshold. He looked a little pasty, a little ruffled, but no longer a squirrel.

"Ron!" Hermione screamed at him. "Are you all right?"

"'Course I am," said Ron, scratching his head.

"What took you so long?" Harry demanded breathlessly.

"Forgot how to pronounce the reversing thing," he admitted sheepishly. "Must've tried ten different combinations before that one worked."

Hermione shook her head in disbelief as Ron opened his mouth again.

"Now how do I get this barrier down?" he called.

"It's should be a simple lifting spell," Hermione answered. "The wand movement is a flick and then up. The incantation is _Levo Obex._ It should work from that side, Ron!"

Harry tried his hardest to believe in Ron … if it went wrong – there was no telling what kind of spells Voldemort may have placed on the castle if the wrong spell was uttered once on the other side … it was not only a case of trusting Ron, but also Hermione in the hope that she had given the right incantation.

They watched with baited breath as Ron rolled up his sleeves, flicked his wand upwards powerfully and bellowed, "_Levo Obex!_"

The once invisible ward glowed red suddenly and highlighted that it ran around the entire perimeter of the castle, completely denying entry to anyone on the outside. The red turned to black, and then in an instant, it simply dissolved.

Harry waited a moment with Hermione still attached to his arm, and then moved forwards towards the gate. His heart was thumping wildly in his chest that it hurt. They reached the threshold – and stepped through it unmarked.

Hermione let out an audible gasp of relief and raced forwards to hug Ron, kissing his cheek.

"Oh, Ron! That was fantastic!" And she kissed him again and again. It appeared first of all that Ron was wholly surprised that Hermione had kissed him and for a full three seconds, remained still when their lips touched. Both suddenly became all to aware of Harry's presence, who was standing a little way back, exceptionally embarrassed.

Hermione let go of Ron, who had gone scarlet.

"Yeah – well … I only did what you would have done," he said, looking to Harry.

Harry moved forwards and put a hand on his best friend's shoulder.

"It means a lot … that you value my life more than yours."

Ron's ears went red. "Yeah … well, you're my best mate, aren't you?"

Harry couldn't contain his smile, nor could he contain the elation that Ron was all right, and the knowledge that he had just sacrificed a lot for him. The gesture meant more than he could put into words, and so he hoped that Ron could see it in his face.

"Harry, I'm sorry about before … I didn't mean –"

"– Forget it."

Harry grinned.

Simultaneously, they turned towards the imposing castle and tried to dare not imagine the horrors within, but Harry could not help but wonder –this wiped the smile off his face much sooner than he would have liked as he led the way towards the dilapidated door leading to darkness.

* * *

**A/N: **I know that chapter was a bit short – but I didn't want to start the whole Horcrux quest until next time, otherwise this chapter would have been like a hundred pages long! Hope you all liked this one – I wanted to show a little Harry/Ron tension here, because lets be honest, it's not always gonna be sunshine and daisies is it? Nope.

_Sammy Lyn: _I'm always arguing with people about HP! That's probably because I take it all so seriously lol. I'm also pleased that you saw what I was trying to do – making the most obvious distinction between Harry and the Death Eaters – don't get me wrong, Harry isn't an angel and there's still a lot of anger there that's gonna have to come out some time … I'm looking forward to that lol.

_Mrs Sakura Potter: _Yup, that's my inspiration. Aren't I resourceful?

_Signoritarosa: _Rosie is the coolest name on this planet! High five my fellow name person!

_Kessemm: _Like the plan, but let's reverse the 60/40 thing. You're slightly crazy by the way.

_Schorch: _Thanks for your review, and I like your story by the way!

_Lana: _Aw, thanks! I love trying to give readers an image of how I see the HP series unfolding like it were on screen.

_Lobocom: _Extremely good? What a cool adverb to use!

_Magiguill9: _Ah, you appreciate my speedy updating eh? Well, it's a shame they can't come as frequently as they did now I'm at Uni, but I do try!

_Mearas: _Thanks for taking the time to write a long review! I really appreciate it when that happens  Yeah, I'm not quite as homesick now, but you know, absolutely beat! I'm not doing English though – music! Oh and yes, there will be some Snape action in the near future …

_Hazel Maraa: _I can't tell you that!

_Eddie: _OK, to get ' …'s to stay on, you need to space between the words. So if you were writing a sentence, leave a space before the … and another after. Let me know if it works!

**Please review … it only takes a moment. **


	15. Post Mortem

_**MARKED

* * *

**_

_Harry still hit the ground hard and_

_felt his hip burn with pain and wondered_

_vaguely if it had been shattered.

* * *

_

**FIFTEEN: Post Mortem**

Harry's first impression of the castle was one of age and dilapidation; the thing that gave this away most obviously was the smell that hit his nostrils when he entered. It was musty and close which gave an inescapable notion of claustrophobia, even though the entrance hall was very big.

It was utterly demolished and appeared as though it had all been left to rot for fifty years. The dated furniture lay broken in a corner; there was not a window that was not broken and yet the grime on the walls overpowered any light permeating the building giving a constant aura of darkness and a primordial feel.

"Like Gaunt, like Gaunt," Harry said aloud. "At least we know where the last one got it from."

"They actually left this open to the Muggle public?" Ron said, astounded, looking around at the dangerous glass on the cold stone flagged floor and the ripped tapestries on the walls.

"It was an old Wizarding directory, Ron," Hermione said. "But even so, I don't know why anyone would want to visit it."

"Well nobody could if they couldn't turn into a squirrel," Harry said with a trace of a smirk. "Listen, both of you. This is a huge place, so we might have to split up – there must be more than one staircase – so we're going to need some kind of signal if we get into trouble."

"How about a Patronus?" Ron suggested. He had told Harry once they had gotten to Godric's Hollow one evening in the little room over Bravery's Pub that he had been practicing over the summer. "They're pretty big and noticeable – and they'd find whoever we'd want them to."

"Ooh, I didn't think of that!" Hermione said, enthused. "I was going to suggest red sparks, but that's much better."

Harry looked at them both. "Are you sure that you can both produce powerful ones?" he asked them seriously.

"Oh yes," Hermione said. "Mine's an otter. It's beautiful."

Ron scoffed. "Ha, an otter? Mine's a lion. I think … well, it was big and hairy and it roared."

"Right then," Harry said. "Don't use them unless you really have to. I'll go up the main staircase first. Ron, there's at least five other rooms down here, you check them out. Hermione, it looks like there's another staircase through there … that must be the kitchen. And there's probably a cellar."

"What are we looking for?" Hermione asked.

"Anything and everything," Harry replied. "Any clues, anywhere where it looks like there might be a secret room or doorway, anything related to Ravenclaw."

They both nodded resolutely.

"And _be careful,_" Harry added. "If you find anything, send me a signal or something and I'll come along. Do _not _go anywhere suspicious without me. OK?"

"Yes, Harry," Hermione replied, her eyes wide, straining it appeared to catch every word that Harry was saying.

"Ron?" he asked.

Ron nodded. "I'm not planning to do any more racing off in a hurry, don't worry."

Harry grinned weakly. "Let's meet back in this entrance hall in half an hour."

And they all went off in their different directions, wands held at the ready.

- - - - - -

Ron had not got further than ten yards before he tripped over an upturned sofa stuffed with what looked suspiciously like peacock feathers. He cursed loudly and continued through a stone doorway into what must have once been the living room.

Portraits hung on the wall, faded and vastly unrecognisable; so much so that the inhabitants had long since given up the ghost and refused to move anymore. The result was oddly chilling for Ron, who was so used to moving pictures. Instead, the entire Gaunt family appeared to be staring down at him menacingly. They all had the same strong jutting jaw, the same sunken faces as had Morfin and Merope, but since Ron had never seen what Harry had in the Pensive, he wouldn't have known this.

There was an ancient fireplace taking prime place in the room, rotted with congealed ash and soot, blackened. He bypassed this fireplace and went into the other room which led through.

A completely empty room met his eyes, devoid of anything except a shattered chandelier in the centre, which on closer inspection held nothing captivating. There was a smaller door to the left that Ron only just noticed as he moved around the chandelier. He pushed it with a sweaty hand, only to found that the lock that once secured it had since been broken.

This room must have been, Ron thought, a study. _What better place to hide a notebook_, he thought? But as he sifted through the crumpled documents strewn everywhere, there was a nagging feeling that Voldemort would have hidden the Horcrux in a much better place than this.

But as he thought this, another notion occurred to him. It was entirely possible that the study had been like this for years – with artefacts strewn everywhere and papers torn. But this looked … less than ancient. It almost looked … _recent. _And then a thought occurred to Ron – someone had already been here.

Thinking that perhaps this thought didn't merit a Patronus, Ron wandered back into the room he had just exited and stopped directly in front of the fireplace. It certainly was very big.

Ron dropped to his knees, wondering what it was about it that intrigued him so, and yet he couldn't take his eyes off it. Ron leaned in, looking closer at something that he had just noticed – a footprint – a very faint footprint at the back of the fireplace where the hearth would have once been burning, but all the same it was there. Ron knelt down and touched it with slightly unsteady hands.

It was then that he saw it. A minuscule carving into the stone, so small that it wouldn't have been noticed unless someone was kneeling right where Ron was now … a bird. A bird that looked suspiciously like a raven.

Ron swallowed down the bile in his throat which had since risen. As he knelt there with his back to the door, he had the distinct feeling that there was someone watching him, and yet when he turned slowly around, all he felt was a little draft on the back of his neck.

He mentally shook himself and wiped his forehead before turning back to the small protruding carving of the bird. It looked strangely shiny, as though it had been touched many times. Ron reached out his hand slowly, and then withdrew. _What am I, stupid? _he thought. Touching something unknown in a house like this was about the stupidest thing he could do. _I should probably go and find Harry, _Ron thought, and yet he could not draw his eyes away from the raven. As though on a sudden impulse, he reached out quickly and pressed it into the stone.

- - - - -

Hermione couldn't help but wonder what this kitchen must have been like back when it was in use, possible hundreds of years ago. Her eyes travelled over the decaying instruments, orange with rust, left to rot atop the stone surfaces.

Despite the dingy disused nature of the place, Hermione could see, in her minds eye, house elves and servants scurrying around getting the dinner ready for the Lord of the house. However she wrenched her mind away from this sudden image and scanned the huge room to look for remote clues. There was, as Harry had said, another stone staircase which spiralled upwards, but it was incredibly dark and she couldn't help but feel a tad frightened.

"_Lumos!_" she whispered into the darkness and her wand tip ignited, flaring yellow into the darkness. It revealed nothing, however, just that the staircase was indeed snaking upwards.

She took a deep breath and put her hands on the cold stone walls on either side to steady herself. Step after step she climbed, her breath rising in a misty fog in front of her, illuminated by the wand light in the cold air.

She could hear nothing; the silence was almost oppressive and heavy against her ears. Just when her feet began to freeze and she thought the staircase wouldn't end, she came to a small landing carpeted in what would have once been red.

There were four doorways off the landing; two with doors hanging off their hinges and one with no door at all. Hermione stepped into the first room: it had been completely ransacked. The old flimsy bed lay on its side, shattered; the pillows had been torn and feathers littered the floor; a mirror lay cracked on the floor. Hermione's heart began to beat very quickly … somebody had already been here looking for something.

Hermione left the room backwards and stumbled into the next one. It was in exactly the same state, as was the next … as was the next … should she send her Patronus? _No … Harry said only use it if we really needed to …_

Hermione looked further down the corridor, and saw that there was another stairway, narrower than the first. But the moment she set foot upon the first crumbling stone step, she felt as though someone was watching her. She spun around, feeling a chill on the back of her neck – but there was no one there. Hermione turned back to the second stairway … and removed her foot. Seven and a half years of magical education had not been wasted on her, but Hermione was by no means devoid of common sense. She had an exceptionally bad feeling about that second stairway, and so returned down the first.

Once back in the kitchen below, she took a more scrupulous look around, turning all the pots over in her hands, examining the walls, opening small doorways and cupboards – but there was nothing. Her eyes rested at last on the open fireplace at the back of the kitchen. It was the most disused artefact Hermione had ever seen and she couldn't ever imagine it burning with the warmth and welcome of the Hogwarts fires – it was cold and empty, except for the dust, soot and grime coating it.

But as she got closer, she noticed that there was the smallest scorch mark next to the wall – like somebody had purposely left their mark there. Hermione dropped to her knees carefully and ran her hands around the edge of the fireplace, feeling the rough stone beneath her fingers. And then she felt it – the tiniest little lump that was too well sculpted it couldn't be a coincidence. She bent in closer to take a better look. Hermione hesitated for a few seconds before drawing her wand again.

She pointed it at the small figure of a raven in the fireplace and spoke a new spell she had not tried before.

"_Reprehendo Malum._"

There was a yellow burst of light, and a little puff of smoke, but nothing else. Hermione had memorised this spell during one summer out of Hogwarts in their fourth year. After Harry's ordeal in the graveyard, she had taken it upon herself to do some serious defence research, and this handy little spell, which checked an object for traces of evil, was one she had been itching to try.

Having not used it before had the disadvantage of not knowing whether or not it worked, but Hermione could think of nothing else. Against better judgement, Hermione reached out her hand towards the little stone raven and pressed it.

- - - - -

Harry lost count of the amount of stairs he climbed. The main staircase was very wide and sweeping, a ghost of its former self with great chunks often missing from steps and only the faintest trace of the glamour that must have once been.

Harry passed many portraits upon the walls, many with hard sneering expressions or else ones of content, though they were no longer moving. Harry contributed this to them being descendents of Slytherin; all with a slightly menacing air.

After passing different landings and continuing upwards, Harry's knees began to ache in protest but he pushed on, trying to ignore the chill reverberating down the back of his neck, as though someone was permanently behind him. More than one, he spun on the spot, wand at the ready, only to find himself completely alone in the darkness. Perhaps it was the essence of the house …

After what felt like hours, Harry emerged at last at the top of the castle and pushed through a large oak door at the top of the staircase only to find that as he did so, a heavy lock fell from the side, splintered from the wood. It appeared to have been broken some long time before Harry had touched it, possibly grime and age keeping it attached. But as Harry pried the door open further, it crashed to the ground with a loud crunch. Harry bent down and picked up the metal lock, cold against his sweaty hands; the metal looked like it had been soldered away ..._with magic. _There was only one explanation – somebody had already been here – had already been here when this door had been locked and had since forced their way in. This notion sent a shiver down Harry's spine.

He soon found himself looking up at the darkening grey sky above; there was a stone walkway opening up into crumbling turrets and spires and unsteady rooftops. An old ripped green flag resembling a serpent fluttered softly in the wind, only just hanging onto its wooden pole.

Harry was very conscious about where he was putting his feet based on the fact that it felt as though the whole building could fall down any second; it was a long way to the unforgiving ground. Harry shivered and tucked his hands into his sleeves as he edged along the open walkway.

_There's not going to be anything up here, _he kept telling himself. _You may as well go back down …_ but he wanted this to be true more than he believed it to be. The stone had once been carved crudely into vicious beasts like vultures and roaring lions on the edge of the turrets, but weather and time had worn away their fine detail, now looking more grotesquely like dead corpses.

It was during an examination of these lost sculptures that Harry saw it; next to a crumbling stone snake, was a huge raven with spiked wings and a very intolerant expression. Its beak had been carved open in a permanent squawk; its claws looked sharp even now they had been eroded in time. Harry stood back for a good long while, studying the stone raven before him – it was bigger than he was. Suppressing the feeling that it would suddenly come alive and attack him, he moved a little closer, watching his feet as he did so.

He reached out very slowly and pressed his hands to the freezing hard stone – nothing happened. It felt oddly smooth, like hands had touched it before; Harry had expected it to be rough. Something in Harry told him that this was the key – this was Ravenclaw's symbol after all, it had to be the source of something. Perhaps he should send a Patronus to Ron and Hermione … but then what was the point if nothing happened?

Pushing his hair out of his eyes and narrowing his eyes against a sudden gust of wind, Harry reached out to the top of the sculpture and pushed hard, feeling the raven move –

- just as two silver Patronuses – a lion and an otter – came charging towards him.

Harry spun so sharply that he cricked his neck. The shining creatures gambolled around him, clearly signalling distress, and Harry felt all the colour drain out of his face. What was so bad that they both simultaneously sent help signals?

"Which way?" Harry yelled at the glowing figments and they turned tail and hurtled back the other way.

"Where are they? _Oh no, oh no_," Harry muttered under his breath as he struggled to follow the Patronuses.

Perhaps it was the fact that his friends were in danger, but Harry did not notice that the raven had disappeared into a hole in the roof, nor did he notice that its sudden disappearance was causing a ripple to run through the stone floor. He eventually felt something, as his feet disappeared from beneath him, but he had been running so fast that it was too late and he did not keep his balance.

The Patronuses flickered and died in the light of the sudden magical disturbance. Harry slammed hard onto the stone, smashing his elbow and feeling a stinging pain, but there was no time to entertain this – _the floor was moving. _It happened so quickly that it was over with in seven seconds flat. Effortlessly, as though it was made of water, the stone formed itself into a bowl shape with very steep sides, like a giant sink, so that Harry could not help himself but slide into the dark centre.

He scrambled uselessly at the sides, all spells driven clear from his mind in the wild panic, but he got closer and closer to the dark hole in the middle with every micro second – and then he was in. Harry knew a moment of pure terror as all light was extinguished from the world. He could hear a rushing in his ears and a cold wind whipping at his hair and knew that he was falling very, very fast.

All too quickly, the knowledge that if he hit the ground at this speed he would die, hit him. Banging into the sides of the long chute, Harry fumbled with his fingers around his wand and thought of the only thing he could.

Turning his wand as best he could against the rushing in his ears, he yelled, _"TARDUS MOMENTUM!"_

It was the same spell that Dumbledore had used on him that day at the Quidditch match when the Dementors had come to hid match. He did not know if it had worked straight away, but eventually the rushing stopped and he felt himself slowing down.

He still hit the ground incredibly hard, landing on his left side. He felt his hip burn with pain and wondered vaguely if it had been shattered. His already cracked elbow seared with agony and he felt bruised all over.

For a whole minute, Harry could not move. He closed his eyes against an oncoming wave of nausea and then opened them again. He muttered "_Lumos" _under his breath and as it had done before, the wand tip ignited. He tried to free the uninjured arm which was holding his wand and mumbled "_Episkey" _whilst pointing his wand at his hip.

The pain lessened vastly, which at least mean that the hip wasn't broken. There was nothing to be done about his elbow however. Harry sat up slowly and rubbed his face. Fear coursed through every inch of his body as he thought of Ron and Hermione … perhaps their Patronuses would lead them to each other, unless they were both too badly hurt …

He forced the image out of his mind and drew his legs up to his chest in an attempt to move. But Harry turned slowly where he sat it felt like a bucket of ice had just been emptied into his stomach.

_There was somebody lying next to him._

He leapt up with such speed that the world was a blur for a second as he leant against the wall, panting hard. It was a corpse, a very old and rotted corpse, so much so that there was hardly anything left. Seeing spots in front of his eyes, Harry doubled over and retched, willing himself not to pass out. He stumbled backwards through a small opening which led out into a passage way and leant against the wall breathing hard.

How long he stood there, Harry did not know. He waited as long as he could for his heart to stop beating so hard as it was starting to hurt his chest. He put his hands against the cold walls, steadying himself; the iciness was calming against his sweating forehead.

_It's just a body …_Harry told himself. _It can't hurt you … it's only a body …_

Harry took a deep breath and began to move slowly towards the skeleton. As he got closer, Harry found that not everything had eroded away; the flesh had gone obviously, but the shoes were still there despite the crumbling leather. Something else that looked hard and shiny also caught his eye.

Harry bent down, still feet away from the corpse, and stretched his hands out slowly. His fingers enclosed around the hard, once shiny object, slightly tarnished over the years and he pulled his hand back away from the skeleton extremely quickly. Harry held his wand up high, scrutinising the object. It looked like an identity bracelet under the wand light; there was some kind of writing on it, but Harry couldn't quite make it out.

Struck by a sudden idea, he raised his wand once again and spoke clearly into the darkness.

"_Castus!"_

This was a spell he had learnt from Hermione two years ago during their clear out of Grimmauld Place, which cleaned an artefact with a simple house hold spell.

The bracelet glowed red and then came up as clean as if it were new. Harry adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose and peered at the lettering on the side.

What he saw made him drop the bracelet to the floor with a clatter. His jaw dropped and he felt dizzy, having to reach out and lean against the wall again. He looked again at the corpse, confused and horrified tears blurring his eyes.

The bracelet read _Regulus Alphard Black. _

- - - - -

* * *

**A/N: **Sorry to leave on a cliffy … I know how much you guys hate that! Any guesses for what's coming? Please review – I'm not updating until I break 200!

_Magiguill99 – _Don't be fairly sure of anything my friend! But you are right … Ron is a different story.

_Mthukral – _I decided not to be specific here as Hermione is like a textbook with arms – pretty much everything she says is fact so I just thought it would lie that she knew what to do in this situation.

_Kristoff – _wow thanks so much for your review – it made me feel really good about myself! It's such a nice thought to think that I'm giving people an actual feeling of what book 7 will be like – I'm sharing my obsession!

_Mrs Sakura Potter – _Ginny will feature in this story I promise you … just be patient!

_Mselaineous_ – aw thanks! No sadly I'm not doing English, but I'm so chuffed that you look forward to my chapters!

_DiTs – _Er, thanks. I know.

_Lana – _Thanks, I didn't want to overdo it with R/H so I tried to keep it light. I thought people would want more! So that's good!

_Megsy – _Oh dear, you're homesick too? It sucks doesn't it!

_Signoritarosa – _Cool, what part of USA are you from? I visited LA, Las Vegas, Montana and Arizona on vacation and loved it! Yeah, you're right, I didn't meet a single Rosie over there. But it is the coolest name ever.

_Mearas – _Ooh, I'm interested to see what your guesses are!

_Schorch – _Hope this one was long enough for you! I just don't want to rush things because then it'll all be over too quickly.

_Kessemm – _Ok, sorry I poo pooed your idea. Do tell.

**Please don't forget to review … it only takes a moment. **


	16. Waterlogged

_**MARKED**_

**SIXTEEN: Waterlogged**

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_This could not get worse … Harry thought desperately._

_And then the ceiling began to move._

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Ron and Hermione could not move: they were both in exactly the same situation, though being in different parts of the castle and wholly isolated from each other, they did not know this.

As soon as they had stepped into their respective fireplaces and touched the small sculpted raven in the stone, a purple fire had sprung up behind them, encasing them within the large cavern of the hearth. The fire was not hot, as Hermione had panicked when it first happened and performed a heat resisting charm on herself, but it was impassable.

Ron discovered this when he touched the licking flames with his wand and could not penetrate them. As for the present time, they were utterly incarcerated, but nonetheless relatively unhurt.

More than once, Harry's words echoed in their head from his experience with Dumbledore in the cave and what the late Headmaster had told him; "_Lord Voldemort would not want to kill the person who reached his Horcrux … he would want to keep them alive to find out how they managed to penetrate so far through his defences …_" So were she and Ron doomed to wait for Voldemort to hurry along to the castle and interview them?

They simultaneously regarded this as a desperate situation and so had raised their wands and cried "Expecto Patronum!"

Hermione had been fearful that the shining otter would not be able to get through the purple fire, but it appeared that magic could get through; it was only they who could not.

- - - - -

Harry stared at the body of Regulus Black for a full ten minutes before he became vaguely aware that his eyes were unfocused and he was not in fact looking at anything at all.

_Regulus Black … Sirius's brother … I'm looking at Sirius's brother … _

The body was almost entirely decayed, though parts of the skull remained, such as the empty sockets and the crumbling bones of what was once a young and healthy human being. Harry took another breath to steady himself.

_He must have come looking for the same thing … he must have done exactly what I did, except the momentum spell … _and he had paid for that mistake dearly, having plummeted to his death. Knowing that that could have easily been him, Harry shivered.

He dimly recalled, as though from a former life, Sirius's words all that time ago as they had stood in Number 12, Grimmauld Place scrutinising the family tapestry before Mrs Weasley had served dinner.

"_He was murdered by Voldemort. Or on Voldemort's orders more likely; I doubt Regulus was ever important enough to be killed by Voldemort in person. From what I found out, he got in so far, then panicked about what he was being asked to do."_

Harry thought wildly, his head hurting as he couldn't take his eyes off the corpse in front of him. Sirius had never said they had found Regulus's body – and here it was, right in front of him. The memory of it also having been dated around some fifteen years previously … this corpse looked younger than fifteen years old … but then, Harry was no corpse expert. Wasn't it possible that Regulus had simply been thought dead? But he had been a Death Eater … what was he doing looking for Horcruxes?

Harry bent down slowly and shakily, picking up the bracelet that he had dropped in shock. Harry stared at the lettering; his brain was fuzzy and muddled but began to put two and two together as he isolated the initials … _R.A.B …_

R.A.B.

Regulus Alphard Black … how had he missed it? How could he not have thought of it? Now staring at the silver bracelet it was more obvious than it had ever been … _Sirius's brother … Sirius's brother had discovered Voldemort's secret … _

The initials staring him in the face had plagued his mind ever since that fateful day of Dumbledore's death. When alone at night, he had thought of nothing else except this … and know he knew. Harry felt as though he had received simply too much information in the space of a few minutes … finding the body of his godfather's brother … and now there was a possibility that this was the same man, the same nameless and faceless ghost that had been in Harry's head all these months.

So this must mean … if Regulus was indeed R.A.B … that he had been _against _Voldemort, not _with _him … he had been good all along … with a sudden jolt of emotion, Harry thought if only Sirius could had known … but where, _where on earth_, had he hidden that locket? For that was where he had left his last message.

"_I face death in the hope that when you meet your match, you will be mortal once more …" _So he knew he would probably die … but somebody had definitely retrieved that Horcrux in the cave …

Harry grappled with a dozen emotions for a moment whilst all the time there was the nagging sensation that this was not what he was here for. The Horcrux was temptingly close … Ron and Hermione were in danger … Sirius's brother had been good after all … the locket all of a sudden seemed less of a sheer impossibility …

And suddenly Harry turned his back on the body of Regulus Black and continued down the dark passageway that lay behind him, the identity bracelet clutched in his hand.

- - - - -

The passageway Harry continued down was not as long as he had expected it to be. Soon enough it opened up into a large chamber, emitting a faint and eerie pale blue glow coming from somewhere Harry couldn't quite pinpoint.

His breathing had not yet returned to normal and it felt somewhat surreal, descending this passageway, armed with so much new knowledge and on the way to destroying yet another piece of Voldemort's soul … but this time he was alone.

The chamber opened up into a large vaulted ceiling which Harry was sure must be part of the stone floor on top of the castle. This must have been one of the Gaunt's secret chambers as there were murals of snakes painted on the stone walls, long since faded. He wondered how the Gaunt family would have reacted if they could have known that one of their descendents would one day use it to store a piece of his broken and fragmented soul … Harry had to remind himself more than once that he was after _Ravenclaw's _notebook, and not Slytherin's.

He stopped at the end of the chamber where a long wall rose up in front of him. This was it – this was the end of the chamber. So the Horcrux had to be somewhere nearby … looking up, he saw gaping craters in the ceiling and the walls, but they were too high to reach. His eyes fell instead on a small iron gate to the left of the end wall on a slightly downward incline, apparently sealed. It looked as though someone could fit in through the gateway … could the Horcrux be down there?

Harry reached out and tugged at the bars on the gate. They remained stiffly shut yet appeared to be coated in a strange, wet moss, almost as though it had been submerged in water previously.

Harry raised his wand.

"Alohomora!"

Nothing happened.

He stood for a few seconds, thinking … and then he heard it. First of all, it was simply a distant rumbling, as though there were some far off earthquake whose tremors could be felt from a distance. But then he heard a rushing, rumbling noise distinctly overhead, like a giant clogged up shower head. Jerking his head upwards, Harry knew what it must be moments before it happened.

Water gushed in from the craters overhead in the ceiling and walls. Harry leapt sideways to avoid the cascading jets now raining down on him, but he needn't have bothered as soon enough, he was drenched.

He raised his wand again, eager to reverse what had just happened.

"Reversus Incantatum!"

But he had nothing to point his wand at; he had not done something that could be reversed by that spell. With his brain working frantically and aware that before long the water would cover his ankles, Harry thought again. Perhaps the best thing to do was to try and do something to the water … like freeze it …

"Solidify!" he yelled, aiming his wand downwards. "_Solidify!"_

But nothing happened except the flow of the water increased dramatically. For such a large chamber, it was filling up exceptionally quickly.

Harry looked around frantically for something to stem the flow … but there was nothing. Nothing except … a sculpted raven, made into the wall, about the size of his hand. Harry sloshed forwards as quickly as he could, restricted by the rising water. Should he press it? It might make things worse … or it might stop the water … there was nothing for it. Shaking, he raised a dripping hand and pressed the hard stone.

To his relief, it sank into the wall with a clunk, but at the same time, he heard a popping noise to his right. He spun around quickly and saw that, on the right wall, there was another sculpted raven. He moved clumsily over to that one and pressed it … but the popping noise was there again, mocking him. The third wall had yet another sculpture. They clearly needed to be pressed at the same time … by three people … but the only two who could help him were currently imprisoned, because Voldemort had planned it so … one person alone could not do this …

A Bubble Head charm perhaps … but he didn't know how to do it … and something told him that even if he did, the magic within the chamber would somehow prevent it …

Harry looked up to where the jets were surging in and wondered how long it would take to fill right to the top … he at least had ten minutes to think of something … he was not going to stand there and wait for it to go over his head … but the icy water was now up near his waist …

_This could not get worse … _Harry thought desperately.

And then the ceiling began to move.

- - - - -

Hermione shifted restlessly on her feet, imprisoned within the fireplace, surrounded by the strange purple fire. Neither Harry nor Ron had since come to her aid … did that mean that they were badly hurt? Or in the same position as her? As minutes passed, her fear was replaced by an element of anger; nothing like this had ever beaten her – there must be something she hadn't tried. Magic could get through … but she couldn't … the fire seemed impervious to anything … there must be _something … _she squinted with her eyes through the purple haze to try and see what else was in the kitchen … rotting pots and pans, tables, nothing that could help her.

If this was fire, then it must be weak to water … but impervious to her magic on this side … but what about from the other side? _Magic could get through …_

Hermione raised her wand and tried to direct it at one of the ancient pots on the decaying table through the barrier.

"_Wingardium Leviosa!" _

To her immense delight, the pot rose shakily into the air, as though the magic was being filtered by something … the spell was going to have to be very strong to hold up …

Hermione mustered all of her intellectual powers of concentration to keep the pot in the air whilst she held her wand steady. Something was telling her that if she uttered another spell verbally, the levitation would be broken … the time had come for non-verbal spells. Hermione had always had less trouble with these than Ron or Harry, but now, under pressure …

She thought of the incantation in her head, and willed it to be so. _Auguamenti!_ She thought.

It worked; a jet of water spilled out of her wand, spurted slightly through the fire, and landed into the hovering pot. It took several attempts for the pot to have enough water to make any kind of difference; it appeared that the flow of water slowed down considerably through the fire, but even so, it worked.

Keeping the pot afloat with her mind, Hermione raised her wand once more.

"_Spillius_!" she chanted clearly and loudly.

The pot tipped itself upwards and upset the water towards the fire. Hermione knew one moment of pure terror as her vision was obscured by an acrid smelling smoke … perhaps it had gone wrong … but then she breathed in the stale air of the kitchen once more as the fire began to sizzle and die.

When she was sure that it would not spring up again, she stepped cautiously over the threshold out of the fireplace and breathed a huge sigh of relief that she felt she had been holding for hours.

She had done it … _she had outsmarted Voldemort … _but there was no time to dwell on the achievement. Dusting herself off, she sprinted out of the kitchen and yelled at the top of her lungs.

"_RON!"_

- - - - -

Hermione suddenly thought that if Ron was in the same position she had been, perhaps he could not be hear her through the purple fire, even if he could hear her.

She recalled Harry's words before they had set off … _Ron, there's at least five other rooms down here, you check them out … _

She raced into the rooms on the ground floor, glancing fleetingly in one before withdrawing and moving onto the next one. When she reached the study, she almost missed him – the fireplace was right at the back of the room, but she couldn't miss the purple glow.

"Ron!" she exclaimed, looking at him through the purple fire, thinking how strange it was that they had both been in the same situation.

Ron's mouth was moving, but Hermione couldn't hear anything. Evidently the fire prevented the prisoner from calling out … to make them assume that magic couldn't get through either.

Hermione gestured with her hands as best as she could.

"OK, Ron, stand back!"

Ron appeared to comprehend as he put his hands over his face and turned to face the wall.

Hermione raised her wand once more.

"Auguamenti!"

The purple fire reacted in the same way as it had done when she had released herself. Ron waited for it to subside before falling forwards and scrambling out of the fireplace.

"How the bloody hell did you do that?" Ron gasped, astounded. "I kept trying to blast that fire out of the way … it didn't work!"

Hermione shook her head, breathing heavily. "It didn't work from our side …the magic to overcome the fire had to be done from the other side … actual magic could get though, it just didn't work on the barrier."

"How do you know that? It's not like you were trapped inside a wall of purple fire …"

"Actually I was," said Hermione coolly. "We must have done the same thing …"

Ron frowned and looked thoroughly confused. "I don't get it … how could we have done? Something happened when I touched that little raven thing, there –" he pointed to the small sculpture within the fireplace, but was careful not to get any closer.

"I think we must have triggered something …did you send a Patronus?"

Ron nodded.

"Harry didn't come to me either," Hermione said in a worried voice.

Ron looked as though Hermione had thrown a bucket of ice over him. "Well … he might just have … I dunno …"

"Ron," Hermione began. "Harry's in trouble. We have to do something!"

Ron nodded distractedly.

Hermione turned instinctively towards the fireplace. But what she saw made her jaw drop.

"Ron …"

But Ron was staring at the floor, apparently lost in thought.

"_Ron!"_

"What?"

"Look!"

She was pointing to the fireplace where Ron had just escaped. He turned and looked. The fireplace no longer had a back to it – instead there was a rough edged opening.

Ron exhaled slowly. "Er … do you think _that's _what we triggered?"

Hermione nodded slowly.

"Come on," she said slowly.

Ron looked up, flabbergasted. "I'm not going in there again!" he said. "I just got out of there!"

Hermione looked at him sternly. "Ron, we're going in there now."

Ron looked as though he might have put up a fight, but then decided against it as he stepped backwards into where he had just come from. He knelt down and peered into the gaping hole.

"What do you think?" he said.

Hermione shrugged. "Well, it's a dark hole and we don't know what's down it so –"

"– So we're going in it, aren't we?"

Hermione went in first. Ron watched her squeeze herself in and then disappear very quickly, as though she had been sucked in by some invisible force.

Ron swallowed and then followed.

- - - - -

Harry was rapidly running out of options. He had swallowed a great deal of water since the ceiling had started to move down upon him in sheer panic but he had since regained his head slightly.

Perhaps he could do a spell on the ceiling to stop its movement. That would at least give him some more time.

"_Subsisto!" _he yelled upwards, trying to stop the ceiling. But either he hadn't done the spell properly or magic could not be achieved in this chamber. Harry strongly suspected the latter.

A sudden piercing yell came from above, forcing him to look up, his vision obscured by a direct showering jet of water. The next thing he knew, Hermione was on top of him.

Her weight forced him under the water, which he could now not stand up in. Thankfully the water broke the fall somewhat, but Harry was sure that hitting the water at that force must have dazed her. Kicking his legs so they reached the surface, he grabbed her arms and wrenched her upwards.

"_Harry_!" she gasped, spitting out a mouthful of water.

"Hermione! Are you all right?" he asked.

"Yes, yes. I'm OK, but what –"

"- Where's Ron?"

This question was answered in an instant as there was another fairly high pitched yell from above, and Ron came careering out of the same crater Hermione had just descended from high above.

Harry and Hermione swam and sloshed towards him, dragging him upwards as they reached him.

"Ron!"

Ron coughed a great deal, eyes watering as he looked at Harry and Hermione, and then appeared to register that they were in water.

"_What the hell is going on?"_ he yelled.

Harry shook his head distractedly. "Listen! We have to all three of us press in those ravens –"

He went to point at the sculptures on the wall but then saw that they had disappeared under the fast rising water.

"– They're under the water, but anyway, we have to do it now! The ceiling's coming in!"

Hermione looked upwards and gasped.

"Oh, my god!"

Ron turned a paler shade of green.

"Come on!" Harry said urgently. "Hold your breath, and do it as quickly as you can, but we have to do it all at the same time!"

Ron and Hermione nodded, now soaked to the skin.

"Ron, you take the left; Hermione, the right. I'll do that one," he added, indicating to the back wall of the chamber.

They all turned and dived under the water, swimming hard towards the stone ravens underwater.

Harry took a deep breath and plunged his head under the cold water. When Harry opened his eyes he could not see very far in front of him because the water was a murky shade of green. He moved towards the wall and held out his hands, feeling the stone. His hands at last found the raven.

He broke the surface and waited for Ron and Hermione.

The ceiling was now less than ten metres from his head, the water would soon have nowhere left to go …

Ron came up first, followed by Hermione seconds later.

"Found it," he gasped, and Hermione nodded in confirmation.

The ceiling was fast cutting out any extra air room they had left.

"_Harry …_" Hermione wailed, staring at the ceiling.

Harry nodded quickly. "Right, on three, we'll go down and do it at the same time … just take a big breath, in case …"

" … In case what?"

Harry didn't answer her.

"One … two … three …"

Harry took his last breath of air as the ceiling scraped his head … he pushed back down again and found the stone raven. Then with both his hands, he gave it an almighty shove and it sank back into the stone.

Harry had never believed in any kind of god, nor had he ever really prayed before, but he could not contemplate a worse way to die than drowning. So now, as he looked above him and saw that there was no gap left, he prayed; prayed that it had worked …but as the water began to fill his lungs, he could pray no longer …

- - - - -

**A/N: **Oh my … is that another cliff hanger? I'm so sorry. But it had to be done. Review if you want more!

_Hazel Maraa – _Yes, that is what I meant! Lol.

_Natalie D – _Thanks for taking the time to leave such a long and inspirational review – its comments like that which make me write well into the night when I feel so sleepy! Thanks also for the comment about not having a Beta. It hasn't really been an issue before, but some comments make me worry about my grammar (which is fine 99 of the time.)

_Sammy Lyn – _I seriously don't remember that bit in OOTP about Ron's Patronus. As soon as someone else reminded me, I recalled it from a random interview JK gave ages ago.

_Lady Rebecca – _Thanks, it takes me a while to decide what and how I want them to find out what they do. Glad it comes across as realistic.

_Signoritarosa – _Just want to say thanks for the massive influx of reviews! You rock!

_Mrs Sakura Potter – _Er, yes I feel terrible that you're dead. Can you reincarnate yourself so you can review this chapter? Lol.

_Psychobubble - _I don't think Ron will ever truly be over the"you think you're better than I am" phase. Sure, he's matured recently, and greatly so in this fic, but Ron will always be blessed with the complex of insecurity; particularly in the situation I set up, when tensions are high, and I wanted to show that they're not the Golden Children, they're gonna have their problems.

_Silfaeyn – _Yeah, I did kind of need them to separate, but I think they probably would now they've had some success and how they've all helped each other before.

_Insanitys Plaything – _Thanks for the comments – I hadn't heard that interview with JK, I'll look for that one.

_Alix33 – _I think I answered all your questions in this chapter!

**Don't forget to review!**


	17. Ravenclaw's Secrets

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"_Wake up, Hermione … come on …"_

"_She's not breathing, Ron."

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**SEVENTEEN: Ravenclaw's Secrets**

Harry wasn't sure whether or not he could have actually held his breath for one second longer, but luckily he didn't have to. The ceiling began to move up again with a crunching noise he could hear even below the water. The second this happened, he kicked hard with his legs, ignoring his protesting muscles, and gasped in the glorious air above.

But the second after Harry had taken in oxygen, he snapped his head around quickly to look for his two best friends. He could see Ron over by the back wall, hands pushing the ceiling, as though willing it to move up faster so he could get more air in. But Hermione was … no where to be seen …

Harry shook his wet hair out of his eyes. "Where is she, Ron?" he yelled so loudly that his throat hurt.

Ron glanced back and Harry saw sheer panic in his eyes.

"I thought she was over by you!"

Harry and Ron looked for a split second directly into each other's eyes and then both dived under again.

Harry's heart was pumping faster than it had been when he had feared that _he_ would never take in oxygen again, but now, it beat so thunderously that it hurt his chest. His eyes were as wide as he could open them and he was frantically looking, feeling around with arms outstretched, for Hermione.

It was impossible to see anything; with the abrupt halt of the cascading jets of water from above the moment the ravens had been pressed, the water had become cloudy and Harry was swimming blind.

But he knew after a minute, as he began to panic, that he couldn't stay under for much longer. He needed air, and yet he wanted to keep looking for her until he suffocated … but it is a strange fact that few can purposely die under water by holding their breath; instinct forces the human body's desire for oxygen for them to seek it above all things.

Therefore, just as Harry's eyes began to darken, he swam upwards. He broke the surface and took in a deep breath, ready to go back down again … and then he saw Ron, holding the top of the newly appeared gate now the water was receding – Harry's heart filled with relief when he saw that Ron was clutching Hermione's unconscious form.

The water, it seemed, was now filtering out very quickly and Harry felt himself moving down, with the water, nearer to actual ground level. As the water became less and less, it was clear where it was going; through the now open gate that Ron was by, holding Hermione.

Harry was soon able to touch the bottom of the chamber floor and slosh over to where they were.

It was surreal, hurrying over to Ron who looked utterly dazed, and Hermione, who could have easily been sleeping. The water was now splashing innocently around his knees.

"Hermione," Ron said quietly at first, gently shaking her shoulders. "_Hermione_ …" a little louder …

But she didn't open her eyes.

Ron took out his wand.

"Magic doesn't work in this chamber," Harry said shakily, leaning down quickly and trying to see whether or not she was breathing.

Ron turned a shade of green as he grabbed Hermione's arm, shaking it gently.

"Wake up, Hermione … come on …"

Harry rose again, feeling very sick.

"She's not breathing, Ron."

Ron's face was blank, his eyes out of focus. "What do we do, Harry … we can't use magic …"

Harry's brain was working frantically … no magic … Hermione always kept her head in these kinds of situations … right … _CPR_ …

Harry had never been taught how to perform proper CPR but now was not the time to hesitate. He bent down over Hermione's pale, freezing face, tilted her head back and blew into her mouth … once … twice …three times …

"It's not working, Harry …" Ron moaned quietly from her other side.

Harry ignored him and kept at the CPR. Once or twice he thought that his own heart might have stopped. After a few seconds, Ron took over, but even then Harry feared it was too late.

He almost didn't notice when Hermione began to cough and splutter, the water exiting her lungs, breathing again. It took Harry a full few seconds to realise that she was alive. He sank back into the wet floor and raised a shaking hand to his eyes whilst Ron hugged Hermione's wet but warming body close to him.

The colour rose in her cheeks again and when Harry opened his eyes he could see Ron kissing her face over and over again whilst she came around.

"Don't you _ever … _and I mean n_ever_ … do that again …" Ron muttered, holding her tightly.

Harry knelt forwards and grabbed her hand.

"You're all right, now, Hermione …"

It took roughly ten minutes for Hermione to be on her feet; Harry and Ron at her side, protesting that she sit quietly for just a little longer.

"I'm all right, honestly, Ron. I'm … just a little shaken."

Ron nodded his head sarcastically. "Oh yeah, a bit of drowning here and there, no harm done."

"Ron's right, Hermione, maybe we should just wait for a bit …"

Hermione coughed once more, as though attempting to clear her throat of all remaining water.

"I'd rather not sit in here, seeing as it's the chamber where Voldemort would have attempted to kill the person who tried to get to his Horcrux, if you don't mind. I'd sooner be moving again."

Harry conceded. "OK … you're probably right. We shouldn't linger round here. If you're sure you're OK?"

"Yes … I touched the raven, and it was like my head felt upside down – I didn't know which way was up and the water was so dark … and then I started to panic …"

"That was just … cruel, that was," Ron muttered. "V – Vol … _He_ must've known that you needed more than one person once you're in here … and so he shacks them up in the bloody fireplace."

"What happened?" Harry asked, forgetting that there had been life before what had just happened.

"Oh, we'll tell you later, it's a long story. I don't think it matters now," Hermione said. "Come on, that gate's open."

And she was right; the gate that had been barred when Harry had tried it prior to the invasion of the ocean was now wide open. It was also the place that all the water had just been sucked.

"OK, but I've got an idea. Let's _never_ separate again, yeah?" Ron said.

- - - - -

It soon became clear that the restriction on their use of magic was refined only to the chamber that they had just exited as Harry went to light his wand out of sheer habit and found to his great surprise that it worked.

The gateway they had entered through was very low and narrow; although it was very wet inside and the ceiling dripped, Harry couldn't understand where all the water had gone. However, soon, this also became clear.

The tunnel widened out into a great cavern – with a huge bubbling lake in the middle.

"Bloody hell," Ron whispered, but neither Harry nor Hermione heard him.

The lake in the middle was lit by an eerie light that must have been candle light, only none of them could see any candles. Harry felt like an iron fist had curled itself around his insides; this place reminded him irresistibly of the cave where he and Dumbledore had failed to get the locket. Something told him however that the water had already played its part in the attempt to keep the Horcrux safe.

"Oi, what's that over there?" Ron indicated, pointing to the other side of the cavernous space.

There seemed to be a part of the stone chamber where there was more of the eerie light emitting.

"I don't know," said Harry truthfully, moving towards the source. As he got closer, he could make out what it was; upon what looked like an iron stand stood the notebook, clear as day, twinkling in the strange light.

As Harry got closer he could tell that the light was in fact coming from the book itself.

"What d'you reckon?" Ron suggested.

Harry wondered for a few moments. The most obvious thing to try was a Summoning spell … but that might trigger something else. But hadn't Dumbledore encouraged him to do that, back in the cave all that time ago? Hadn't it in fact given them a glimpse of the Inferi – what they would have to later face?

"_Accio notebook!" _Harry called loudly and clearly, his voice ringing thinly around the chamber.

For a moment, nothing happened. And then, as though he were summoning a dictionary for Professor McGonagall in a Transfiguration lesson, the blue notebook soared effortlessly into Harry's open hand.

Hand shaking, Harry stared down at the cover.

Ron looked nonplussed.

Hermione however wore an expression of utmost distrust. "It _can't _be that simple …"

"D'you reckon that's really it?" Ron said. "I mean … yeah we all nearly drowned, but surely there'd be something else to stop someone just lifting it …"

Harry continued to look at the notebook. It was larger than he though it would be; the cover had faded over the years but the gold lettering was still there, as though preserved by magic, _which, _Harry thought, _it probably is._ The lettering read _Rowena Ravenclaw._

"This is definitely it …" Harry said, thinking that it must be, seeing as Regulus Black had died for it …

"Maybe you should open it," Ron suggested.

"No," Hermione answered immediately.

"Why not?"

Hermione frowned. "I just have a bad feeling … "

"A bad feeling? Well, we're in the old castle of one of You Know Who's ancestors trying to get rid of part of his tortured soul, so yeah, I'd say I've got a bad feeling too –"

"– I have to read it," Harry said quietly, cutting Ron off.

Ron and Hermione looked at him. "What?"

Harry turned the notebook over in his hands. "It's the only way … it's the only thing I can think of. This is the Horcrux – everything we've found out tells us as much. Reading it must be the only way of destroying it."

"But … well, unless you're … a retard, then reading a part of the book isn't going to kill you, is it?" Ron said in a small voice.

"Knowing Voldemort, probably," Harry replied. "I don't know. Won't know until I open it, will we?"

Harry held the book up and turned it over again, as though looking for hidden qualities.

"Stand back, just in case," Harry said.

Ron and Hermione took several steps back from Harry and stood by the edge of the lake in the centre of the chamber.

Harry took a deep breath and turned the cover of the book back. Nothing happened. All he could see was the first blank page of the contents and the back of the front cover.

"Put it on the stand, Harry," Hermione called from the other side of the room.

Harry took the notebook and placed it very carefully back on the iron stand that he had summoned it from.

The second he did so, there was a flash of bright blue light, and the pages of the book began to flutter faster and faster until their pages were a blur. Then it stopped suddenly. Harry took a tentative step forwards and took a closer look.

"What is it?" Ron called out.

Harry stared at the page. "Just a passageway, like it's been … selected."

And he was right – it seemed that Voldemort had selected a certain place within the notebook, only a few lines long, which stood wholly alone on the page.

He read it though in his head and realised why Voldemort had chosen it; it was Ravenclaw's experience of what had almost happened exactly to Voldemort when he had been Tom Riddle at school, and tried to open the Chamber of Secrets. A simple diary entry.

But once he had read it, nothing happened, though he hadn't really expected it to.

"Perhaps you have to read it aloud!" Hermione suggested.

Harry took a deep breath and opened his mouth.

"_I have searched far and wide for this information so that others may use magic more effectively …"_

Ron and Hermione stared at Harry as he paused.

"What's wrong?" Hermione called out fearfully.

Harry stopped speaking and stepped back slightly. The second he had finished the first sentence of the highlighted paragraph, he felt a stinging pain on the inside of his forearm. Harry lowered his wand arm and drew back the sleeve of his tee-shirt, revealing a deep cut.

"Oh! Harry, are you alright?" Hermione cried, seeing the vivid redness of Harry's blood glistening on his arm.

"It's a test …" Harry whispered to himself more than anyone else … _typical Voldemort … _believing that pain and death was the main worry of mankind …

Even so, Harry tapped his arm with his wand.

"_Episkey!" _

Nothing happened.

_Why am I not surprised, _Harry thought to himself. He took another breath and steeled himself to continue.

" … _What I have seen and done will not be recognised by many _… ah!"

Harry stopped again. He could feel a searing pain around his rib area and didn't even need to check as he could already feel the blood seeping through.

" … _I begin preparing myself for the fact that …"_

The cuts began to come faster and felt to Harry as though they were getting deeper, although this may have been due to the fact that he now had three, the latest on his shoulder.

" … _That many will not be aware of what I had to endure … and – and –"_

"Harry, stop it!" Hermione cried out. "Just … we'll find another way!"

"There is no other way," Ron said quietly.

Harry tried to speak the passage very quickly, thinking that the faster he got though it, the less chance the cursed Horcrux would have to inflict its pain.

"… _and I know much of my work will … will b- be ignored …"_

Harry felt a gash appear on his face, as though an invisible wind had passed across it, like a dull blade …

" … _and cut out … but I-I can only help that … wizardkind … will r-remember my name … and that we e-educate those … intellectuals … w-who deserve it …"_

Harry's eyes travelled down the page, ignoring the blood dripping off the end of his fingers … he could hear Hermione screaming in the background and Ron yelling, but he knew he had to finish in order for the Horcrux to be destroyed …

_It's only pain … you've had it before … _he kept trying to tell himself, but it really was excruciating … it was worse than the Cruciatus curse …

"_If I desire one thing … it is t- that my work will not – will not be w-wholly … f- forgotten."_

Harry had finished the passage.

There was a flash of blue light which shot upwards out of the notebook, which immediately burst into flames. Harry thought he could hear a loud scream of fury, possibly in his own head, but he was sure that it was Voldemort's soul …

And then he knew it was over. The noise in his head stopped and the pain doubled. Unable to stand for a moment longer, Harry dropped to his knees. He was dimly aware of Ron and Hermione rushing towards him holding him up, speaking urgently, frenziedly … and then everything went black.

- - - - -

Harry knew that he was dreaming. He knew because when he looked down at his body, it wasn't his own body. With a thrill of sick fear, he saw the white spider-like hands splayed out on a mahogany desk in front of him with a giant snake hissing lazily at his heels. The scene flickered hazily before his eyes, almost like an old film on a roll.

He was in Voldemort's mind; of that he was sure. But hadn't he been told all that time ago that Voldemort had attempted to use Legilimency against him?

But Harry couldn't hold this thought in his head any longer … because it wasn't his head … and suddenly a strong knowledge intruded; knowledge so powerful that it was almost like truth … _Horcruxes._ All that filled his head was Horcruxes, like he was sharing the thought.

And then Harry knew that the mind-trip was over, as he was transported painfully back into his own mind with a jolt, and only one thought in his head.

_He knows._

- - - - -

"_Harry … _Harry! Oh, please wake up!"

Harry could hear Hermione's voice calling fretfully from far away. With a huge effort, he wrenched opened his eyes.

"Thank Merlin," he heard Ron mutter.

The scene came blearily into view. It seemed that they were out of the chamber where the Horcrux had resided … they were even out of the dismal dungeon below … in fact, they seemed to be back on the castle roof.

Harry tried to sit up. "Where are we?" he said shakily.

"We got you out," Hermione said. "We're back on the roof – that's where we ended up when we tried to Apparate … we think that the magic restrictions must have lifted when you destroyed that notebook …"

"Slow down, Hermione," Ron said. "Let him catch his breath. You alright, mate?"

Harry sat up. "I don't know …" He lifted his sleeve and saw that the cut that had been there still showed, but it was less vivid and didn't sting as much.

"What did you do?" he asked.

"Hermione did it," Ron admitted. "It was some kind of _skin knitting _spell. What _was_ that, by the way? For future reference?"

"I looked into it after Harry told me about Snape and Malfoy that time in the girls' bathroom."

"Thanks," Harry said slowly. The pain certainly was less.

He turned to look at what had suddenly attracted his attention; the notebook lay, still smouldering, by his side.

"So it's destroyed then …" Ron said, prodding it slightly. "Well done, Harry. That was … well, that took some nerve."

But Harry just remembered with a jolt what he had just seen. Now aware of his surroundings and coming to terms with the fact that he was still alive, he remembered.

"He knows …"

A loud silence followed this statement. Hermione spoke first.

"What?"

"He knows," Harry repeated. "Voldemort knows what we're doing."

"_He knows?" _Ron said disbelievingly. "How can he know?"

Harry shook his head. "I – I don't know … maybe we pushed our luck … destroying them all so quickly … he must have sensed something …"

"We should check the local paper, you know," Hermione said quickly and in an almost business-like tone.

"Why would we want to do that?" Ron asked her.

"To see if there have been any unusual activities going on."

Ron snorted. "We're in the middle of a war, Hermione. Unusual activities are becoming more normal by the second."

Hermione ignored him. "You know what I mean."

Harry put his head in his hands and rubbed his eyes. "Someone must have spotted us … we were too careless … God, we waltzed right into Azkaban … half of them in there are Death Eaters … what were we thinking?"

Hermione put a pacifying hand on his arm. "We didn't have any choice, Harry – there's no way we would have found out about the Horcrux on our own."

Ron nodded. "She's right, Harry. Sure, we could've done some stuff differently, but He was bound to find out at some point, wasn't he?"

"I suppose," Harry answered. In truth, he _hadn't _expected this to happen quite so quickly. How much did Voldemort know? Could he now sense how far Harry had gotten, having destroyed two Horcruxes in quick succession? It was o much more dangerous now … for _everyone._

Dumbledore's words echoed once more in his head, as they so often did these days … _Voldemort's soul is now too maimed to even notice … _well, maybe he had noticed something … or someone else had.

If he was _on to them, _so to speak, there was a possibility he would want to keep the other Horcruxes safer … _the locket …_ which brought him onto the other thing he had to mention to Ron and Hermione; but oddly enough, it was they who brought it up.

"Harry … when we followed the chamber back, we … we found something … a body."

Harry looked up.

Ron spoke. "We dunno who it was – any ideas?"

Harry delved into his pocket and felt his fingers close around the cold metal of the identity bracelet. He raised it up, and Hermione took it from him.

"_Regulus Alphard Black … _Oh, my god."

"Eh?" Ron started, and snatched it from her. "Bloody hell … that was … that was _Sirius's brother?"_

"Yes."

Harry could see Hermione putting two and two together, just as he had done hours before.

"R.A.B … Sirius's brother was R.A.B?"

"Yes."

Ron swore so badly that it earned him a reproachful glare from Hermione despite the situation.

Harry slowly began to tell them the story of Sirius's brother and how he had been believed to be a Death Eater, but how now it seemed that he must have turned before he was discovered.

"So it was _Sirius's brother _who stole that locket from the cave?" Ron confirmed.

Harry nodded. It was all guesswork, but they had no reason to believe it was anything but accurate.

"So what do we do now?" Ron asked.

Hermione spoke first. "The first thing we should do is see where the land lies. We should get a local paper – _yes, Ron – _and then decide what we do."

Harry nodded. "Can you do some sort of locator spell? To see where the nearest wizarding community is? Because it'll have to be a wizarding newspaper."

"Yes, I'll do it back at the B it'll be quicker if I can concentrate, and then at least we can sort of … you know. _Re-group._"

So they gladly exited the castle of Gaunt, none of them confiding how nice it felt to be out in the open once again, away from the evil sensation that surrounded the castle.

But they didn't go straight into the B&B when they got back. They stood outside, open-mouthed for three full minutes. There, over the building, clear as day, as grotesque and as chilling as it ever was, hung the Dark Mark.

- - - - -

* * *

**A/N: **Did you like that one? I did! Lol, I'm so excited about my plotline! Hey guess where I went on Sunday (actually like yesterday as I post this). The UK premier of Goblet of Fire! I know, lap up the jealousy. Anyone else go? I might actually have seen you and not known it. How odd. I got loads of autographs and pictures, saw Dan Radcliffe right in front of me by the gates– Tom Felton kissed my hand :) and I got a Rupert and Emma autograph. gazes starstruck at the skies

Anyway - PLEASE REVIEW!

_Ecthelion – _Ooh, addicting people is a fun past time of mine lol. **I went to the premier!**

_Lana – _Sorry I couldn't manage two this week … but I am at home for a few days, so I'll try and write faster! **I went to the premier!**

_Signoritarosa – _You recommended my fic? Aw thank you so much! I'll go check out that group now I have time! **I went to the premier! Ok, I'll really stop doing that now. **

_Mel – _Just one word? Oh, ok, that'll do just fine lol.

_Mselaineous – _Argh, don't ask me how Voldie gets his OWN Horcruxes! I might actually have to think about it! Lol, I found somewhere for Harry to spit. Thanks for the shout out … I wanna break 280 before I update. **I went to the premier! Sorry.**

_Psychobubble – _Yeah, I guess they will defeat their insecurities eventually … perhaps even in this fic … but not yet! Thanks for the review. Every time x.

_Mearas – _Yay! You reviewed! Hmm, where do you think the locket is then?

_Loonygirl – _Thanks for the conformation – I didn't think Ron's Patronus was in OOTP. Hope I put you out your misery!

_Liz – _Yes, JK died and I'm channelling her spirit. Give me money and I'll tell you how book 7 ends. I'm kidding of course.

_Lady Rebecca – _Was this one long enough for you? I'm so glad you like The Good New Days … that fic is like my baby and I miss writing it so much!

**Quick A/N: **….. er, **I WENT TO THE PREMIER! ahem.**

**280 reviews please!**


	18. The Leak

_**MARKED

* * *

**_

_"Afterall, when did Noah build the ark?"_

_"What?"_

_"Before the rain, Ron. Before the rain."

* * *

_

**EIGHTEEN: The Leak**

The B&B that Harry, Ron and Hermione had booked for their stay in Devon was in a very rural area; the nearest town was a good ten miles away and there was not a sound that disturbed the cold and silent hills around. In fact, no one would know that anything was wrong with this scene – except for the fact that an ugly skull hung directly over the roof, fired most probably by a Death Eater … or Voldemort himself.

"Oh, God," Hermione stuttered, her face white and drawn. "Oh God, oh god, what happened?"

Harry took steadying breaths. Ron's expression resembled one of utter disbelief.

Harry instinctively looked around them, eyes wide, wand raised. Whoever had conjured the Dark Mark may have been very close by, perhaps even now.

"_Lumos Maximo_!" Harry uttered.

A brilliantly bright light burst from Harry's wand and illuminated the scene around them. He moved his wand carefully around the yard and through the trees, around the back of the house – but there was no one there.

"They must have Disapparated," Ron said quietly.

Harry shook his head. "We've still got to be careful – invisibility cloaks or whatever, they could still be here."

Harry suddenly became very aware of what he might find within the B&B – the Dark Mark usually meant that Voldemort or his Death Eaters had killed … there was no reason why this time should be any exception.

"OK, here's what we're going to do. I'm going to go inside – _yes, _Hermione, on my own – and see what happened. I need both of you to wait out here, in case there's anyone still around."

"But … what if they're still in there?" Hermione whispered, tears of fear glazing her eyes.

Harry shook his head. "I don't think so … this was a way of them letting us know we're on borrowed time … they want to know what we're going to do next …"

"Yeah, and I don't think that one of us should stay out here on their own," Ron seconded.

Harry nodded.

"But if you need us … send the stag, yeah?"

Hermione looked as though she thoroughly disapproved of the idea, and yet her fear of what was inside overcame her reservations. Harry turned, gripped his wand tightly, and walked towards the house.

- - - - -

It was what he had expected; the B&B was a wreck, tables in the reception area turned over, bookcases upended, a carpet lay smoking in the corner. Harry flicked the light switch up and down; nothing happened. Instead, he lit his wand and proceeded further.

He recalled that when they had checked in, the receptionist had commented on how slow the season had been, (she had been a Muggle) and that they only had two other guests staying. She had been an uncommonly pretty girl; something Harry couldn't help noticing; with blond hair and soft brown eyes. She had also been surprisingly aware of the strange goings on, for Muggle.

"All this weird mist, it isn't right," she had said the previous morning. "Don't reckon it's got anything to do with the weather, know what I mean? You look after yourself now."

The mist of course was being caused by the increasing Dementor activity throughout the entire of Britain it seemed, leaving gloom and misery in their wake as well as the damp mist.

Harry reached the stairs and shone his wand up them; he saw nothing but darkness.

He began to climb them, remembering that their room had been the second one on the landing. But before he could take another step, he trod on something squishy and hastily removed his foot. Harry knew what it was before he even looked down, but nothing could have prepared him for the petrified, blank look on the dead receptionist's face as she lay, spread eagled in an awkward position across three stairs.

Harry tried to look away, but found that he couldn't. There was something about the macabre situation drew his eyes right back into her own empty ones; they were like deadened windows of an empty house. Had she felt much pain? Had she put up a fight? Would they have left her alone if she had just let them in … _no._ Of course they wouldn't.

Harry didn't know whether or not to move her; he knew he probably shouldn't, and yet it seemed so wrong to simply leave her lying there. But he found himself stepping over her body and continuing up the stairs.

The rug on the landing had been upended, lighting fixtures smashed, glass littering the floor. The pictures on the walls had been torn and their frames smashed. Harry peered carefully into the first guest room, whose doors hung off its hinges.

He stuck his head in through the gap he had made; the room was as expected, but there was no sign of a body. _Perhaps they were out, _Harry thought thankfully. The next room was theirs.

From the moment he had seen the Dark Mark hanging over the B&B, Harry knew that the charm he had placed on their doors in every place they had stayed would most probably have been smashed. It had been; though it seemed as though the Death Eaters had had trouble with it, as the door, in the end, had been smashed to smithereens and lay splintered on the floor. The beds had been turned over; pillows had been torn; the wardrobe in the corner lay on its side, but Harry crossed the room immediately and went to the bathroom.

In every place they had stayed, Harry had hidden the bag that contained the fake locket in the cupboard in the bathroom on the premises. The mirrors had been smashed and someone had turned all the taps on so it was flooded.

He knew there was no hope as he looked in the broken cupboard's compartment; the locket was gone.

Harry quickly exited the bathroom, heart pounding. If they had found the notebook where he had recorded everything they had done … they might as well give up and go home. He found the newspaper still residing in the bottom of the wardrobe, which had been wrecked, but the newspaper was still in tact.

"_Revellious_!" he said clearly, pointing his wand directly at the print.

There was a flash of red light and the newspaper turned into the notebook. Harry exhaled shakily – all had not been lost. In the likely event that something like this was bound to happen sooner or later, Harry had bewitched the book to look like a newspaper cutting. He had gotten the idea from seventh year students when Umbridge had scouring the school in Harry's fifth year for the article from _The Quibbler _because he had given an interview about Voldemort's return. People had bewitched the article to look like something else. Harry remembered this as though he were remembering it from a former life.

With the notebook safely in his pocket, Harry found a bag that had not been split and began stuffing clothes and artefacts that could be salvaged from the wreckage.

- - - - - -

He found Ron and Hermione waiting outside, shivering. A faint pink light was beginning to show over the hills; dawn.

"Well? What did you find?" Ron asked, rubbing Hermione's shoulders as she was shaking so badly.

Harry's face darkened. Ron and Hermione seemed to know what he was going to say before he even said it because Ron swore under his breath.

"The receptionist's dead. All the rooms had been ransacked, but there wasn't anyone else in there. Luckily."

Hermione put her hand to her mouth.

"But … w-we were talking to her … this morning –"

"I know," Harry said, looking at the floor. It was going to take him a very long time to get those blank staring eyes out of his mind. "They took the locket."

"What?"

"The locket was gone. The piece of paper from R.A.B was in there too, so Voldemort will know about Regulus Black by now."

Ron swore again.

"This," Harry said, holding up the bag he held, "is what was left. There's most of our stuff in there; clothes and things. We can never come back here again – it's too obvious. We have to assume now that someone is watching us all the time. No more chances."

They nodded.

"Hermione, can you find out where the nearest wizarding shops are?"

She nodded, face white. "Yes, I could tweak the Locator Spell I suppose."

She raised her wand, muttered a few words quietly under her breath that neither Harry nor Ron could hear, and then said a little louder, "_Point me!"_

A silvery trail shot from her wand, lighting a path in front of them.

"Right," Harry said, putting his hand on Ron's shoulder. "Let's go get a newspaper.

- - - - -

Hermione's altered Locator Spell led them to a row of houses with what appeared to be only two shops; it couldn't even be called a village. As they neared a gap between the only two shops in the inhabited row, Harry narrowed his eyes. There, as though it had been pushed and squashed into the tiniest gap, was a little shop with a red sign over the door which read "_Wilbur's Weekly Wizarding News."_

Before they went anywhere near the shop, Harry stopped them. They still looked white and shaky.

"OK, no more chances, yeah? So we're going to have to do a glamour spell or something."

This was more Hermione's territory than Harry's, which was why he looked directly at her when he said it.

"Right …" Hermione muttered distractedly. "Well, it'll have to be a small one because … well, like I said last time, it could be damaging."

"Just do what you can – to all of us."

Hermione managed to make them all look different to some extent; Harry's hair was a shade lighter and his scar was gone again. Ron, to his great delight, had shod his ginger hair and now looked completely different with darker hair. Hermione did not do a glamour spell on herself. Instead, she cut her hair to just above shoulder length.

"Hermione, you don't have to do that, you could just change the colour," Harry had protested as she took some scissors to it.

"I've wanted to change it for a while now," she said matter-of-factly.

"Yeah, but at least get it done properly in a wizarding salon or something," Ron suggested.

"Where am I going to find one of those around here?" Hermione retorted. "Plus this way's quicker."

"Alright, but let one of us do it at least?"

Hermione looked at them both. "Are you mad?"

Harry and Ron exchanged affronted glances, but both privately agreed; between them, they could no more cut hair than put on makeup.

When their appearances were all effectively altered, they entered the small wizarding newsagents.

It was a tiny place with a little old man sat asleep behind his desk at the back of the shop. There were piles of newspapers everywhere and two owls sat on perches next to the old man. But at every paper they looked, there was the same picture: Harry.

He felt as though someone had emptied an ice bucket into his stomach; this was the last thing they needed.

The headlines differed, but their message was the same. Harry bent down and picked up the _Daily Prophet_ and held it up to the light.

_**BOY WHO LIVED ON A MISSION**_

"Bloody hell, Harry," Ron muttered. "That complicates things a bit, doesn't it?"

"You wanna buy that, son?" said the old man behind his desk, apparently awake.

They _Daily Prophet _cost them eight Knuts, which Harry extracted from his pocket. Once they were out of the little shop, they went and sat down on a small bench opposite the only row of houses in the community.

"What does it say?" Hermione asked, chewing her nails as Harry surveyed the paper with narrowed eyes:

**_Harry Potter, better known nowadays as The Boy Who Lived, is reported as having not returning to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry last September._**

_Based on an informed tip-off, the _Daily Prophet _can exclusively reveal that Potter is definitely not attending Hogwarts at the present moment. Rumours surrounding Potter allow us to speculate that this may be due to the fabled 'Prophecy' in that Potter and He Who Must Not Be Named are reportedly concerned._

"_It's possible that the reports of Potter being the one to destroy You Know Who are true, and this time off his important studies is due to some mission Potter must carry out on his journey to defeat … Thingy," says a Senior Representative from the Ministry of Magic._

_It is also possible that the Ministry sent Potter on such a mission. If this is so, it may be comforting for the public to assume that Potter is working with/for the Ministry of Magic; however the _Daily Prophet _cannot confirm this._

_This new evidence comes as much needed reassurance in the current wizarding community; startling new figures shed light on how many have fallen victim of He Who Must Not Be Named in the past 3 months: the current figure stands at 23 confirmed murders and 5 unconfirmed disappearances. Meanwhile Defence Experts inform us that Dementors are multiplying, as was hinted at in the Minister's press release last week. (For more on Dementor Defence see page 394.)_

_It is unknown where Potter is now, although sources say he recently visited the Wizarding prison of Azkaban, for unidentified reasons: it is also unknown what he is doing, but we are confident that, given Potter's history, it will be something worthwhile, and in the interest of the magical community._

Harry exhaled shakily as he finished the article.

"No pressure, Harry," Ron said in a trembling voice.

"The tip off must've been Malfoy," Harry said, more to himself as he thought than to anybody. "The Death Eaters must have found some way of communicating with Voldemort – even in Azkaban … Malfoy must have told him we were there … Voldemort told him to leak it …"

"But … why? Why would he want everyone to know what you're doing?" Ron said, confused.

Harry took of his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Because Voldemort knows how shallow the papers are … he can keep up with what we're doing via people like Rita Skeeter as well as having us followed … double whammy."

Hermione shook her head. "Harry, this isn't good."

"Really," Harry said sarcastically. "I thought it was fantastic."

He sighed deeply as Ron and Hermione fell silent.

"OK … so he knows what we're up to – or at least some of what we're up to."

"Maybe we should keep moving," Hermione suggested tentatively. "Seeing as he knew we were at the B&B, he must have some idea where we are now, and Harry, we're completely on our own here … if you're caught by the Death Eaters now –"

"– That's not going to happen," Harry said strongly. "That's – look, we're just panicking, OK? It's not as bad as –"

"– Oh come on, Harry, who are you trying to kid?" Ron said with repressed fear quivering in his voice as he spoke. "This is about as bad as it's going to get!"

Harry shook his head and fixed Ron with his gaze. "No Ron, it _will _get worse. And if you can't handle that, then you might as well go back to school right now."

Ron said nothing and didn't move, but looked away.

Harry turned to both of them.

"We can handle this, OK?"

But neither looked convinced.

"We need a plan. We need to figure out what we're going to do. OK …"

The main thing in Harry's mind had been plaguing him ever since he had discovered that Voldemort knew about Regulus Black.

"It's very possible that the locket – the _real _one – is at Grimmauld Place. True, Black might've moved it, but it's certainly a starting point. And we have to be prepared that we're not the only ones that are going to have figured that much out."

Hermione suddenly went white.

"Oh God! Grimmauld Place is still the Head Quarters for the Order!"

Harry nodded.

"Voldemort might go there for clues – they don't know a thing about it!"

"The first thing we need to do," Harry continued, "is send a letter before we leave to the Order and warn them to get away from Grimmauld Place; for the time being anyway."

Ron nodded. "Harry … my parents are in that house every day –"

"– We'll send it right away. Voldemort's only known about Regulus for less than a few hours and it'll take him a good while for him to find out where Head Quarters are. Don't worry."

But Ron looked as though he were destined to worry for the next month.

"Wait …" Hermione began. "The whereabouts of Grimmauld Place are protected by a Secret Keeper … who's Secret Keeper for the Order?"

Harry thought. "Dumbledore …" he said slowly. "I don't know what happens when – when the Secret Keeper dies."

As though on cue, Hermione recited the procedure like she'd swallowed a textbook, as though they were back in school and trying to earn a few House Points.

"The original Secret Keeper nominates three other potential candidates to withhold the information and if the main person is … is killed or – or something, the three chosen hold a meeting and chose before they perform the spell."

"Do you know what the spell is?" Ron asked out of interest.

"Yes, of course, but I don't know how to do it."

Harry looked at Hermione. "So the whereabouts should be safe for now?"

Hermione looked a little sceptical. "Ordinarily, I'd say yes without question, but …"

"But what?"

"But …well, this is Voldemort."

A heavy silence fell upon them. Who was Secret Keeper now? Could they be trusted? Harry was sure Dumbledore would not have chosen his three candidates lightly … but what if Voldemort got to them first?

"We should make a start on that letter … and we should stick very closely together. The _Prophet _left out the fact that you two are with me … so if they're looking for dirt, they'll only be looking for me –"

"– But Voldemort will know that you've got us with you –"

"– Which is why we have to be _extra _careful."

They nodded. Ron looked a little less green now they had a plan formed.

"If we do the letter in a public place … a pub or something – we'll fit into the crowd more. Death Eaters aren't likely to be socialising with Muggles are they?"

"No, but reporters might."

Harry shrugged. They couldn't do it both ways.

- - - - -

The pub they chose was not one in the small village of the B&B. Without risking Apparition, they had trekked seven miles due north (thanks to some handy navigation magic by Hermione) and found a Muggle town.

The pub was large and smoky, but with a good natured atmosphere, and the young Muggle barmaid behind the beer kegs had particularly welcomed Harry and Ron.

"I love not having ginger hair," Ron said as they sat down with their lemonades. "It'd be nice to try some Muggle alcohol. What in the name of Merlin is … _Bacardi_?"

"Will you concentrate?" Hermione hissed at him, returning from the bar with a piece of paper and a pen.

Since Ron had never used a biro pen before, being used to feather quills, Harry wrote the letter.

"What shall I write?" he asked them through a sip of lemonade.

Most of it was what had been in his head for the past few hours; it was hard to leave out a lot of the information that he so wanted to share. In the end, they ended up with a rather short message; much more a warning than a letter.

_To all at the Order,_

_I can't say as much as I'd like, but you need to vacate everyone from Grimmauld Place for the time being; all I can say is that it isn't safe right now. If you've been reading the papers, you should have some sort of idea what I mean, but it's a possibility that Death Eaters may come looking, or even Voldemort himself._

_I'm not saying this lightly – it's dangerous to stay. Please take this seriously._

_Harry_

"You don't think it's a bit … ominous, do you? I mean, we don't know anything for sure …" said Ron.

"Rather ominous than not serious enough," Hermione said, sealing the letter with her wand under the table and away from the eyes of the Muggles. "When did Noah build the ark?"

"What?"

"Before the rain, Ron. Before the rain."

"We'll send this on our way," Harry said, downing his lemonade and going to stand up.

"What, we're going to Grimmauld Place? Now?" Hermione said, startled.

"Eventually. There's somebody I've got to see before we do anything else," Harry replied, picking up his considerably lighter bag of possessions.

"Who?" Ron and Hermione asked in unison.

"Rufus Scrimgeour."

- - - - - -

* * *

**AN: **So whaddya think? Please review and I'll ... er, send you nice vibes.Only 2 days to go!

_Eddie: _Hmm ... does me mentioning a secret keeper suggest that there'll be a traitor in the future? ... perhaps. De ja vu eh?

_SammyLyn:_Yeah ... sorry! I thought you'd be jealous. But you're happy for me? Yay! It was very good. Thanks for the review! I'm hoping to update my msn space soon so the pics should be on there.

_Lana: _You went to the 3rd one last year? Wasnt the 4th one due in New York last week or something? You should have gone!

_Ely: _Ah, you know I like my cliffies! Yes, the premier was fantastic. Only 2 days to go!

_Whitefeather: _God, tell me about it. Uni life is exhausting! Thanks for the review.

_Ruby: _He did kiss my hand. And i've told everyone i have ever known. Lol.

_Kessemm: _Lol, no I kept out of JK's eyeline (I didnt see her actualy) seeing as she might sue me for channeling her spirit.

_Mselanious: _You're right, why nitpick? lol i'm kidding. All nighter? I'm right there!

_Aprilla: _Hope this answered your questions! The Dark Mark is usually where there's been a 'killin'.

_Mearas: _OOh, interesting theories ... you may have something there ... Kreacher's den ... hmm. Dont worry i wont steal your idea lol. Love your story btw.

_Liz: _Oh, thanku! I love it when people tell their friends ... makes me feel so loved!

_no1youknow: _Omg, I say rocks my socks all the time!

_Jocelyn Perks: _Oh poor you ... sunny weather ... beautiful beaches ... hot surfers lol. Australia is awsome! When does GOF come out over there?

_Signoritarosa: _Lol, OK, if this was ever on film, you would so be my tagline person. Love it.


	19. Scrimgeour Silenced

_**MARKED

* * *

**_

"_It's too late, Minister. It's too late. _

_All you can do now, is watch."

* * *

_

**NINETEEN: Scrimgeour Silenced**

Their journey to London was not a comfortable one; everyone who looked in his direction, everyone who paused for more than a nanosecond on his face looked like a Death Eater. Everyone who had a pen or a quill in their hand looked like a reporter … but that part of the problem, at least, Harry could do something about.

They took Muggle transport, mostly because Harry was less likely to be recognised by Muggles, especially with the Glamour Spell.

It would have been churlish to assume that the Death Eaters would not move amongst the Muggles; knowing a few of their faces from years before could help Harry no longer; now, with the war in full rage, the Death Eaters could be anyone, and they could be everyone.

"Is this a good idea, Harry?" Hermione said quietly, gazing out of the window, apparently lost in thought. "Waltzing into the Ministry of Magic, Glamour Spell or not?"

"I don't have a choice, Hermione."

"Yes, you do," Hermione protested, turning away from the window at last to look at him.

Harry sighed deeply and looked at Ron, who was busy trying a Muggle chocolate Mars Bar.

"What do you think about all this?"

"Me?"

"Yeah."

Ron unglued his teeth and swallowed deeply. "Well … isn't there anyway we could see Scrimgeour outside the Ministry?"

Harry had been expecting this.

"He wouldn't leave the Ministry alone now. He's got to be one of the prime targets – destroy the leader of the community and there are more people to manipulate."

"He's hardly a leader, is he?" Hermione said darkly.

"That won't matter. He's the head of the Ministry. Even if we sent him an owl … he'd only meet us with about six Aurors at his side. This has got to be … well. You know."

"And you just expect them to let you walk right into his office, despite the fact that you've just outlined how well protected he's likely to be?" Hermione said.

"They'll let me in," Harry said, and in turn looked out the window at the misty weather.

- - - - -

The old red telephone box looked exactly the same as it had done to Harry two years ago when he and Mr Weasley had gone to the Ministry for Harry's hearing. The glass panes were still missing and the phone itself had not been remotely repaired.

Harry recalled vaguely the numbers Mr Weasley had dialled as he picked up the broken receiver and dialled six, two, four, and two two's.

The dial whirled smoothly into place, as it had done before, and a voice, different from the one Harry had heard before, filled the phone box. Instead it was a harsh, male voice.

"Due to recent events, the Ministry of Magic is no longer accepting visitors. Please state your identification number to be admitted into the building."

Hermione grasped Harry's shoulder.

"Oh dear," she said.

"Now what do we do?" hissed a squashed Ron from between Hermione and Harry.

Harry gripped the receiver tightly and held the phone up to his mouth.

"My name is Harry Potter and I want to see the Minister. Now."

Hermione made a vehement noise from behind him.

"Harry! What are you doing?"

But Ron shushed her.

There was a long pause before the voice came out of the phone again. Harry supposed that whoever was on the other end of the line was sending many messages to many different people.

There was a click and a rattle, and something slid out of the metal chute. Harry picked it up. It read _Approved Personnel._

The floor beneath them all shuddered and they sank very slowly to the ground as the pavement rose up past the shattered windows. There was a grinding noise as they sank lower and then the box came to a resting stop.

Light filtered in through the bottom crack of the door and shot up to their faces. Ron and Hermione did not gasp; they had been in the Ministry before, as had Harry; it was an experience he had been repressing ever since Sirius had died.

As the lift clunked to a halt, Harry saw that there was someone waiting for him at the bottom. It was a very official looking wizard with two nametags pinned to his chest, one saying _Senior Security Personnel._

He looked at Harry with suspicion in his eyes.

"Mr Potter … if you could follow me, please."

Harry, Ron and Hermione went to walk forwards but the security wizard held out a hand and pushed at Ron's chest.

"Just Mr Potter if you please," he said gruffly.

"They're with me," Harry said in a low voice.

"I don't care who they're with, Sonny Jim. The Minister has allowed you and you alone to see him and I'll lose my job otherwise."

Ron looked as though he may have protested further, but Harry's look silenced him.

"We'll wait in the entrance hall, Harry," Hermione said.

"Don't go anywhere," said Harry quite seriously.

- - - - -

They made their way down the highly polished wooden floor, Harry glancing upwards for a few seconds to glimpse the peacock blue ceiling with the inlaid golden symbols swimming about merrily above their heads. With almost every step that Harry took, there was a _whoosh _and a witch or wizard would appear out of one of the many fireplaces set into the walls. All glanced at him and did a double take. After about 2 minutes of walking, Harry felt as though a whispering train was following him: this was either very smart, or very stupid.

The security wizard reached a sealed door and tapped it with his wand. It opened with a grating clunk, and a secret lift was revealed that Harry had never been in.

He entered, looking braver than he felt, and waited as the lift ascended. It felt like they stood there for an age until finally, an artificial female voice echoed through the lift.

"Level seventeen; offices of the Minister of Magic, the Senior Undersecretary and the Junior Members. High level clearance required."

Harry stepped out of the lift behind the security wizard and followed him down a well lit passageway. They eventually stopped behind a very large door with mahogany decorations along the edges.

The wizard knocked sharply twice and a voice from within spoke.

"Come in."

The wizard pushed the door open but did not go inside. Instead, he motioned for Harry to enter. Harry walked in and caught a glimpse of a high panelled ceiling and a row of detailed portraits hung upon the wall when he caught sight of Rufus Scrimgeour, standing behind his desk with tawny, unkempt hair, arms wide.

"Harry!" he said in a fruity voice. "Harry, Harry, Harry. Couldn't believe it when they told me you were here! Do come in! Sit yourself down!"

"I'll stand thanks," said Harry coldly. He had been prepared for Scrimgeour's effusiveness and assumption that he were doing exactly what Scrimgeour had asked him to the previous year.

"Can I get you anything sent up, Harry? A drink perhaps?"

"No, thank you."

Scrimgeour smiled warmly and sat down behind his desk, spreading his hands wide.

"Harry I cannot tell you how glad I am that you decided to take up the offer of coming in every now and again … naturally I attribute your reluctance before to the trauma of Dumbledore's death and the like … but now, people may begin to see that … that you are helping us!"

"Minister, listen –"

"– I read about your mission, you know! Not returning to school, Harry, you dark horse! Normally if it were any other student I would not have allowed it, but seeing as it's you –"

"– Mr Scrimgeour, _listen,_" Harry interjected sharply. Scrimgeour stopped talking abruptly at the harsh tone of Harry's voice.

"I won't be coming back here again," Harry began. "For a while at least."

"But –"

"– Now, I've thought before that you have some amount of intelligence, seeing as how you stepped up for Fudge's job, so I'd have hoped you'd figured out from that article in the _Daily Prophet _that, for once, they're close to the mark."

Scrimgeour was looking at Harry intently, his eyes narrowed.

"What are you saying?"

Harry decided it would be churlish to not get straight to the point. "I'm saying that if you want to call this a _mission_, then feel free. I _am _doing something that is very important, but one thing I don't need is the papers reporting on what I do every minute of every day."

Scrimgeour looked as though someone had punched him in the face.

"What are you doing then?"

Harry laughed sarcastically. "Right, I'm going to tell you."

Scrimgeour snarled, and then forced his face back to calm. "Harry … if you let us help you, then the public would see us working together! Ministry and Chosen One! Side by side! They'd see –"

"– They'd see lies, because at the moment, the Ministry is about as redundant as a liquorice wand."

"Now see here!" Scrimgeour bristled. "The Ministry has stood up against evil for centuries before you were born, boy!"

Harry felt his temper flare and raised his voice. "Where were they two years ago? Where were they when I was shouting the truth at the top of my lungs to all of you? Where were _you, _Mr Scrimgeour, when Umbridge, who is _still_ working here, was forcing me to carve into my own skin that I was telling lies?"

"Dolores Umbridge is a highly valuable, highly important –"

"She's a sheep. You're all sheep, looking for something to follow, whether it is a story, or you follow in each other's blissful ignorance, one after the other, like children. It's pathetic."

"You forget, Potter, that I am not Fudge," said the Minister in a dangerous voice. "I do things differently."

"It doesn't make any difference how you do things, Minister. How much headway have you made against Voldemort? How many Death Eaters have you caught? Real ones, I mean?"

Scrimgeour's face changed dramatically. Instead of a kindly, welcoming man he suddenly resembled a powerful, dangerous being.

"You have _no _idea what you're talking about, Potter."

"I think I do," Harry replied coolly. "But we're not going to discuss your pitiful tactics at stopping this war –"

"– What do you suggest I do, then?" said Scrimgeour, bristling. "If we were less harsh with the people we caught I'd be criticised for being soft!"

Harry shook his head. They would _never _get it right.

"It's too late, Minister," he said in a weary voice. "It's too late. The only chance the Ministry had at having a part in this was when Fudge had the throne. He didn't listen to me and he didn't listen to Dumbledore and because of that, all you can do now is watch."

Scrimgeour fell silent but appeared to grow a little paler. Harry, though he was speaking the truth, wasn't prepared to have this affect on the lion-like man before him.

"Why did you come here?" the Minister asked, gazing out of the window.

"I know you have a lot of leeway over the papers."

Scrimgeour looked at him sharply. "That's what this is about? _Publicity?"_

Harry fought the urge to hit him.

"I've had enough publicity to last me a lifetime, Minister."

There was a silence before Harry spoke again.

"I want you to stop _all _of them from reporting anything about me."

"_All of them?_" Scrimgeour said incredulously.

"All of them," Harry repeated, as though to a deaf man.

"But – but – that's … impossible! I don't have that kind of say so! And besides, my press people deal with that side of things."

"Then I suggest you promote them," said Harry calmly. "I know you have power over them, and I want you to use it."

Scrimgeour opened and closed his mouth several times, like a fish out of water.

"OK, even if I tell the press to stop writing about you, there will be someone who realises that it's because there _is _something to write about!"

Harry looked down.

"Then you need to make it perfectly clear that that can't happen."

Scrimgeour hitched a false smile on his face, more like a grimace. "All right, so say I do this for you, Potter, what do I get in return? You spurned all my offers of help –"

"– You weren't trying to help _me, _you were trying to help yourself by recruiting a poster boy!" Harry retorted angrily, but the Minister continued as though there had been no interruption.

"You turned down your chance to stand alongside and help the Ministry in these dark and dangerous times, you withheld information about Dumbledore … what do I owe you?"

Harry shook his head. "You personally don't owe me anything, Mr Scrimgeour. The Ministry of Magic on the other hand owes me more than I can actually put into words and since you're the head of the establishment …"

Scrimgeour tutted in disbelief.

"But you know, most of all, you owe this world something. You owe them the chance to live their lives, because Fudge didn't."

Scrimgeour wore an expression of mingled fury and scepticism.

"And how am I going to do that? Perhaps you can enlighten me, Mr Chosen One!"

Harry smiled faintly. "Let me get on with what I'm doing. There's nothing more you can do. The only chance you have now is me."

There was a pause where Scrimgeour didn't say anything and neither did Harry. The Minister then suddenly spoke with a certain amount of venom in his voice.

"So you think you're the _saviour, _do you, Potter?" he said sarcastically.

Harry ignored him, and continued to stare hard at him.

"What chance do you think you have?" Scrimgeour said coldly.

Harry didn't answer for a moment. He weighed his words which had as much importance to himself as he said them eventually as they did to Scrimgeour.

"I'm a marked man, Minister. Always have been. I suppose we work with what we're given."

Then he turned and went for the door.

"I can't promise anything," muttered Scrimgeour from behind his desk as Harry pulled the wooden door open.

"If you want us to win this war, Minister, I think you can."

- - - - - -

"So you think that's done it then?" Hermione asked Harry when they were walking towards a relatively sheltered park area in London.

"I think I gave him the message, yeah," Harry said. "He said he couldn't promise anything, but he was frightened. I could tell."

"Well that's something then," said Ron. "At least he's taking you seriously, Harry."

Hermione was frowning. "But it means that if Scrimgeour does this for you, Harry, they really have lost control. They're really at a loss."

Harry nodded. "I kind of figured that out the night I got back from the maze."

They had found a spot that was shielded from the bustling London life with high hedges and the odd Muggle walking their dog; perfect for Apparition to Grimmauld Place.

"Everyone ready?" Harry said, bracing himself for the unpleasant sensation once more.

Ron and Hermione nodded.

But no sooner had Harry prepared to step into a spin, there was a huge explosion from behind them that shook the very ground they stood on and drove them all to their knees.

They all instinctively threw their arms over their heads to shield themselves against the flying debris that was now showering everyone with the vicinity of a hundred feet circumference.

Harry raised himself shakily to his feet and looked over his shoulder. Behind him, standing tall amidst at least thirty injured Muggles was a man with a wand. And he had blasted a deep crater inches from his feet.

- - - - -

* * *

**A/N: **SOOOOO ….. everyone! How did you like the film? I thought it was absolutely FANTASTIC. I'm going to see it for the 3rd time on Sunday! Oh yeah, how did you like my chapter lol.

_LonleySlytherinslowlydying: _Yeah, the previous books suggest that the Minister has some sway over the papers, so I used it. Fudge is an il bastardo.

_Brad: _Aw, stop. I'm gonna blush.

_Jedi Kacee: _Thanks, I try to keep it coherent at least! There's so many stories out there that aren't, and you just think sometimes, why do you bother!

_Ruby: _Now you know what Harry wants from Scrimgeour! But will he do it? Or should I say, will there be any point after what just happened … I love your name btw.

_Mi Ana I Numen: _Thanks for the compliments, especially if you don't give them out a lot! I am trying to update as quickly as possible, but my University work is so tough at the mo … this is such a joy to write after a hard day.

_Katy: _Was that a sufficient row?

_Aprilla: _Nah, I don't like him either. Scum.

_SammyLyn: _I read your new chapter and found the word macabre! How ironic! Thanks for the long review, I really love them. How did you like the film?

_Eddie: _Yeah, Uni is hell lol. Ruffles Slime … love it. Voldemort sleeping with me? Now I've seen the film … no, still wouldn't do it. And I'm guessin that you're not a George Bush fan?

_VoidArts: _Do you wanna know why I chose page 394? Cos it's what Alan Rickman says (as Snape) in the 3rd film so very slowly. And I makes me laugh lol.


	20. The Hole in the Street

_**MARKED****

* * *

** _

"At least they've caught a Death Eater," said Hermione.

"That's what worries me," said Harry quietly.

* * *

**TWENTY: The Hole in the Street**

Harry scrambled to his feet and stared. The man with a wand had a dark hood over his head, covering most of his face, but Harry didn't need anyone to tell him that it was a Death Eater.

It was a surreal feeling; Harry had been wholly aware that there had been, effectively, a war raging around him for the past two and a half years and yet to see evidence of it, right there in front of not only him but Muggles … was more than he could take in for the moment.

"What's going on?" Hermione yelled as she scrambled to her feet, helped up by Ron.

"We've got to get out of here, Harry …" Ron muttered. "If that Death Eater sees you …"

But it didn't seem like the hooded character had seen Harry, who grabbed Ron and Hermione by the shoulders and ushered them behind a large bush.

Harry was breathing hard, crouching as low as he could. He could hear frantic, terrified screams from Muggles and peeped through a gap in the bush.

"Come _on_, Harry …" said Hermione, tugging at his sleeve.

But Harry shook his head. "No. I can't crouch here like a kid and just watch it happen!"

"Harry, there's nothing you can do!" Hermione hissed anxiously, brushing her hair impatiently out of her eyes.

"Yes, there is!" Harry replied furiously.

The hooded figure seemed to be pointing his wand at anything and everything he could, blasting chunks off stone walled buildings, creating dust clouds and making more panic.

Ron looked at Harry, saw what he was thinking and shook his head.

"Harry, we _can't …_we can't risk it!"

A fierce battle was going on inside Harry's brain. If he tried to stop the Death Eater and lost … then Voldemort would know exactly where Harry was and could probably deduce what he was doing … but if he just sat here and did nothing … it was only _one _Death Eater …

Harry stood up and aimed his wand.

And in that moment, a group of wizards converged on the lone Death Eater; the Ministry had finally arrived.

"Thank goodness!" Hermione gasped.

"Don't be so sure," Ron muttered.

Wearing bright blue robes, the Aurors fired red spells at the Death Eater, who went down instantly, overcome. There were two Muggles in close proximity, lying motionless on the ground, where many more were huddled against the wall with their arms over their head. Harry couldn't believe this was happening in _central London._

The Aurors came together and stood in a wall, shielding Muggles from the scene. There was a fewer number of wizards wearing red robes hurrying to help the fallen.

Harry clenched his fists and ran out from behind the bushes towards the Ministry.

"_Harry!"_ he heard Hermione whisper.

But Harry was nearly there.

Two Aurors turned their wands on him as soon as he approached.

"Stay back!" they yelled.

Harry slowed and held his arms up to show he meant no harm.

"Wait, I'm a wizard … who was the Death Eater?" he asked breathlessly.

"I said stay back! That is none of your concern …"

The Auror, who was tall and thick necked with a great amount of blond hair in both beard and hair, stopped in mid-sentence.

"Wait a moment … you're Harry Potter!" he muttered, his eyes raking over Harry's hairline and taking in his scar. A few other wizards turned to look and took in Harry's appearance.

"What are you doing here, boy?" asked another wizard, older than the first. "Do you have any idea how dangerous it is around here these days? Especially for you!"

"Yeah, oddly enough I do," Harry replied coldly, trying to keep the sarcasm out of his voice and simultaneously trying to get a glimpse of the Death Eater.

The older Auror, who had a deep, wise voice and a cracked face, said, "I've read what the _Prophet _had to say about you, and while I only believe half of it, I suggest you go back to school, Mr Potter, and leave this kind of thing to us."

Behind him, Harry could hear a wizard in lime green robes calling out to the public.

"If I could have you all assembled please, ladies and gentlemen, in front of me … please don't panic … everything's all right now!"

Slowly, the Muggles drew closer to the wizards.

And then, somebody yelled "_Obvliviate_!"

Everyone behind Harry within the vicinity had had their memories modified; everything that had just happened would be erased from their memories forever. As Harry turned to look behind him, he saw that the Muggles had a dazed look on their faces.

Harry turned back to the older man in front of him in red robes. "What's your name?" he asked politely.

The man seemed taken aback by this question and answered more on instinct than anything else.

"Arnold Cummings."

Harry nodded. "Well, Mr Cummings, you seem like a smart sort of guy. I guess you must be to be an Auror."

"Now listen here, young man –"

"– But it's a shame you work for the Ministry, because to be honest, they don't have a damn clue. Now I really don't want to make another scene, but believe me when I say that I really need to see who that Death Eater was."

"Why?" said the man, suspicious.

"I need to see the Death Eater," Harry repeated. "What harm can it do?"

"You're not authorised!" the Auror hissed back, a little more aggressively.

"Pretty soon, having authorisation is going to be the last of your worries. You think what just happened was bad? Imagine hundreds of them, blasting Muggles into the air. How are you all going to stop them then?"

The Auror paused. "We … we have plenty of man power! We have back up instructions, we have strategies –"

"– Your strategies are floored," said Harry bluntly. "One thing you can do to help is to let me see who that was. It might be important, Mr Cummings."

The Auror frowned, as though he wanted to argue back about just how flawed the strategies were not, but it seemed that the drama of the situation was distracting him from the point.

"Oh, very well. Quickly, have a look. Then you get back to school!"

"Thank you," Harry said, sidestepping the Auror and looking into the face of the Death Eater whose mask had since come loose since his contact with the floor.

It was Avery.

- - - - -

As Harry returned to the sheltered garden in the midst of the chaos, Hermione was scurrying towards him like an angry goose.

"_What did you do?"_ she hissed.

"The Death Eater was Avery," Harry replied.

"Who?" said Ron.

"I saw him in the graveyard that night … and in my dream a few years ago …"

"Did anyone see you?" asked Hermione.

"Just a few Aurors, but even if they tell Scrimgeour he can't do anything. They won't report it, don't worry."

"But someone could have seen you! You ran out just after that Death Eater – there could have been more – it might have been a trap …"

"That's exactly what it was," said Harry, surprising Hermione. "Look, it's risky to talk about this here in broad daylight."

"Hang on," Ron muttered, pulling out his wand subtly. "_Muffliato!"_

Now they could talk without fear of being overheard.

"Do you remember ages ago, Ron, after we had that Quidditch match, I had like a vision, or a dream, where I saw Avery give Voldemort the wrong information and he was in real trouble?"

"Yeah …"

"Well Voldemort doesn't forgive easily, so I reckon he didn't care whether or not Avery was caught by the Ministry. He knew the Aurors would be there soon enough, but he knew we were here too …"

"So you think he was trying to draw us out or something?" said Ron.

"More like trying to draw _you_ out, Harry," said Hermione seriously. "And if you think Voldemort didn't mind about getting Avery hurt then it probably means he's got more on standby, the minute they see you …"

"We should keep moving," said Ron. "Get out of here right away."

Harry nodded.

"At least they've caught a Death Eater," said Hermione.

"That's what worries me," said Harry quietly.

"Come off it," said Ron with a small laugh. "That's got to be good, hasn't it?"

Harry frowned. "It's almost like he's got them to lose … he's being callous about it … so there must be more than ever."

Ron and Hermione fell silent.

There was a long pause.

Finally Harry spoke.

"Right, well we'd best get going."

"Where?" chorused Ron and Hermione.

"Grimmauld Place, of course."

- - - - -

Ron and Hermione appeared disposed to leave the surrounding area as quickly as possible and find a safe patch to Apparate in. They found one not far away; there was still a great deal of confusion around them, so a small park next to the bus stop served as a good spot.

With all of them visualising Grimmauld Place, they spun quickly on the spot and let themselves be swept up into the horrible feeling of compression. In a whirl of blurry colour and a nauseating feeling, they slammed flat into the ground directly in front of Grimmauld Place – or Harry and Hermione did at least. Ron had Apparated twenty feet away from both of them.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly. "Got a bit confused."

Hermione seemed to be suppressing the urge to giggle, but Harry, who was staring up at the odd-looking vision that was Grimmauld Place, hadn't even noticed.

There, in front of him, was the place he had never wanted to set foot in again. Magically squeezed in between two other battered Muggle houses, it would be, for Harry, forever haunted by the memory of his wasted godfather prowling the musty halls he had so wanted to escape when alive. Harry could almost hear his footsteps in the attic as he sulked upstairs with Buckbeak …

"Harry, are you okay?" said Hermione, putting her hand on his arm.

Harry swallowed and took a step forward.

"I'm fine," he said gruffly, for another thought had occurred to him.

If the Order had done as he had asked and vacated, Grimmauld Place should have been empty … but there was also the chance that Voldemort had figured out some way to find Headquarters without the Secret Keeper, whose identity Harry still did not know …

They took one last look around them and advanced on the front door. He pushed at it slightly, but it didn't budge. Drawing out his wand, he muttered almost inaudibly, "_Alohomora!"_

The door swung open, as he predicted it would do. They stepped inside. Harry was immediately hit by a wave of the musty smell he associated with the ancient Black household; a smell that had accumulated due to many years of neglect and would not, despite their previous attempts at decontamination, budge.

A long dark hallway met their eyes and they were plunged into darkness. Harry had walked this way many times in his dreams, but always with Sirius's face looming at him out of the darkness.

"_Lumos!_" Hermione whispered.

They came to a switch on the wall near the bottom of the stairs. Harry hesitated and then flicked it. The hallway was instantly lit with a dim candle light, burning in the shades on the walls. The first thing Harry noticed was that the portrait of Sirius's mother was no longer there.

"Blimey," Ron whispered. "They got it down then?"

"I thought she'd used a Permanent Sticking charm?" said Hermione in the same low tone.

"She had," Harry replied. "It must've ceased to operate when … when Sirius died."

"Why are we whispering?" said Ron.

"Habit," Harry said. "But you're right … I think the Order must have gone.

"Yeah, they did the sensible thing. What do we do? Come to the very place You Know Who's looking for."

Hermione shook her head sharply. "No, Ron, we'll be safe for a while. As long as the new secret keeper is protected then Voldemort can't find us. True, he knows this is most likely where Sirius's brother is likely to have hidden the Horcrux but getting the Order out was just a precaution."

Ron shook his head and continued to look sceptical.

"Right well, I guess we should get looking then," Harry supplied reluctantly. He wanted to go through each room of this house less than anything else on the earth, but he knew he had to.

"Where exactly are we supposed to look, Harry?" said Hermione. "I mean, we went through loads of stuff two years ago when we were trying to make this place fit for living in."

"… Wait a minute …" Ron said suddenly.

Both Ron and Hermione looked at him expectantly. "What?" they said in unison.

"We've already got it …" he said slowly. "Don't you remember? When we were in the living room with … with Sirius and Ginny as well … there was that music box with the weird tune, those ancient seals and –"

"– The heavy locket that none of us could open," Harry finished.

Hermione gasped. "Oh yes!"

Harry stared at the banisters for a second, thinking hard. "Where did we put it?"

Hermione shook her head. "How on earth did you remember that, Ron?" she said, faintly surprised.

"I have no idea," Ron replied, equally taken aback at his own recollections.

"God, where did we put it …" Harry said, beginning to panic. It really could be _anywhere … _and it was them who had put it somewhere.

"Well, we wouldn't have thrown it out, would we?" said Hermione in a faint voice, as though she didn't really believe it herself.

Harry shook his head. "Sirius could've done … he hated the entire heritage. He wouldn't have known what it was."

"Well what on earth are we going to do?" said Hermione, unable to hide the trace of hysteria within her voice.

Harry was about to open his mouth and answer her honestly that he did not know what they were going to do when all three of them froze.

There was a definite bang directly above their heads. All three of them had heard it at the exact same moment and instinctively looked at the ceiling. Harry felt as though his heart had stopped as he held his breath.

"Maybe it was a rat –" Hermione whispered, but Harry held a finger to his lips.

Harry bent down silently and took off his shoes to dull the sound of his footsteps before he ascended the stairs.

Ron and Hermione made to follow him, but he held his hand out to stop them, shaking his head vigorously. Not only did he want to keep them out of danger, but he was very aware of the fact that the stairs creaked and three bodies would undoubtedly make more noise than one.

He held his breath as he moved up the stairs, but even as he reached the fifth, he heard yet another noise. This time, it was like a shuffling. Harry felt his heart jump in his chest, adrenaline coursing through his veins.

As he reached the first landing, he moved along past the doors, wand held in front of him like a sword.

_Bang._

There it was again. And it had, without a doubt, come from within the room that Harry was standing directly outside.

He took a deep breath and forced his hands to stop trembling as he held them out. Very slowly, they did, and he swallowed hard.

Thinking surprise was the best form of attack, Harry stepped back slightly and kicked open the door before he stepped in, wand held high.

There was someone in the room. But it wasn't a Death Eater.

It wasn't even Voldemort.

- - - - -

* * *

**A/N: **There is the update … finally! I'm so sorry it took so long, and I know I promised it faster … pls don't hate me … but now, seeing as it's the end of term at Uni and the xmas holidays, I really can write like all the time!

(By the by … anyone seen Narnia yet?)

_Rain Date Chick_: Thanks for the reviews … and I'm glad you feel the same way about RAB! It just has to be him (in the actual 7th book.) There are way too many unnecessary references to Regulus in HBP for it to not be him.

_Deus XM: _You _hated _it? Man, you're disturbed!

_The Dark Icon Writers: _Just like woah? Well that's very nice of you. Thanks. Lol.

_I am an evil genius: _(are you really?) Thanks for the review – it's lovely when people say that this is how they imagine the actual book 7 to be. That's what I'm doing here … trying to keep myself sane before it comes out!

_Kessemm: _It sucked? That's a little harsh. But I like your idea about me doing the movies. That'd be cool.

_Jedi Kacee: _Yay! A fellow GOF film shipper!

_Signoritarosa: _Oh no … has done another cliff hanger and now fears for her safety.

_Lana: _Gah! You discovered my secret! Yes. I broke into JK's house, undetected. And this is what I stole … muahahah!

_Mike: _True, Dumbledore tells Harry in Book 6 that the Order has had to "temporarily vacate the premises" but I assume that as soon as the test with Kreacher was carried out and it was apparent that the house really was Harry's that they moved back in.

_Ruby: _Not quite a replay of Peter/Sirius, but near enough lol. Hope you liked this!

_Numen: _University is like the British version of American colleges I guess. You live there and do a degree, and it's been keeping me swamped. But now it's nearly Xmas! Yay!

_Aprilla: _You realise you've given me a challenge now? The whole, 'Scrimgeour you suck' song. I will do it before this is finished, as a personal favour to you (seeing as you left such a nice long review lol). As for what you say about the terrorists … yeah, I was very much aware of that when I wrote it, which is why I didn't make such a big thing of it as I may have done two years ago.

_Anonymous3932: _Yeah, someone mentioned about JK saying what Ron's Patronus was in an interview, but I guessed I missed that one!

_Sammy Lyn: _You were on TV? Dude, that's awesome! Mind you, I wouldn't trade that for a kiss on the hand from Tom Felton … lol.

_Eddie: _Glad you enjoyed the movie! I imagined Voldie with red eyes, but I guess we can't have everything. I don't think he should have been uglier, because despite the descriptions, Tom Riddle as a boy was supposed to be very handsome, and let's face it … Ralph Fiennes is sex on legs.


	21. Kreacher's Treasure Trove

_**MARKED

* * *

**_

"_I'm trying to be practical!"_

"_Screw practicality, Harry! When does that ever come into love?"

* * *

_

**TWENTY ONE: Kreacher's Treasure Trove**

It was Ginny.

The sight of Harry and the shock of the door being kicked open so suddenly had caused her to leap a foot in the air; she had clearly not expected him.

"_Harry!"_ she yelled, scrambling to her feet: she had obviously been looking for something.

Harry, jaw hanging open, was momentarily to dumbstruck to speak. He shakily lowered his wand and closed his mouth several times.

"I didn't hear you come in!" Ginny said. "Where are the others?" she said, as though her apparition was a perfectly normal occurrence.

The next thing Harry knew, she had thrown her arms around his neck and was engaging him in a bone-crushing hug. Harry was helpless for a moment to do anything except stand there.

Ginny drew back.

"What's the matter?" she said.

Harry found his voice, though it was a hoarse whisper. "What the _hell _are you doing here?" he demanded.

Ginny was spared answering as there were loud clunks from the stairs that told the pair of them that Ron and Hermione were now making their way up.

As they reached the landing, both stopped in their tracks, as Harry had done.

"_Ginny!_" Ron said, flabbergasted. "What's going on? Why are you here?"

"How –" Hermione began.

"– We could talk about it over a nice pot of tea," came a deeply familiar voice from behind Harry.

Remus Lupin stood at the bottom of the stairs, his greying hair betraying his forced look of calm. There were numerous cuts and scratches on his face and arms and yet the brightness of his eyes was still vivid.

Harry felt as though he had entered a previous life; he had been out of contact with everyone else for such a long period of time since leaving The Burrow that Lupin and Ginny's appearance was bizarre.

"What are you … what happened to your –" he began, but Lupin cut him off once more.

"– As I said. A nice pot of tea."

- - - - -

Harry had followed them all with his mouth shut .Ginny had looked at him uneasily a few times, as though in fear of his reaction, but he had not looked at her. He was too angry.

They sat in silence in the dingy kitchen underneath the living room whilst Lupin bustled around with the whistling teapot before setting it down on the table. Harry had lit the torches with his wand when they had entered, but the room was still freezing.

Lupin reached out and took Hermione's cup before opening his mouth.

"So –"

"– What are you playing at?" Harry began hotly, as though on cue. "_Why _are you here, and why did you bring _Ginny_? Do either of you have any idea how dangerous this is? Coming _here_?"

Lupin lowered the pot and put his hands together in a thoughtful gesture.

"Harry, I know you must be angry –"

"– _Angry_? You've both just gone and done the ONE thing I asked of everyone to _not _do – why would I be _angry_?"

Hermione put a hand on Harry's arm but he jerked away from her.

"I told you – all of you – that I had to go away and do this … I explained why Ron and Hermione were coming and I _told _you to not try and find me until I found _you!_ So you better explain why you're here, and you'd better do it _right _now."

"Well, we would if you'd let us get a bloody word in edgeways," said Ginny sourly.

Harry stared at her; there was a fire present in her blazing eyes once more and the burning torches made her hair dance.

Harry sat back, feeling very much like a petulant teenager of all things, and folded his arms.

Lupin took a sip of his burning tea and cleared his throat.

"Your message was received by the Order a few days ago. There was a large discussion and debate about what should be done. We all voted, unanimously I might add, to take your warning at face value and evacuated the premises right away."

Harry said nothing.

"But my heart was uneasy. The article in the _Daily Prophet _had since been published and I was aware of how influential the press could be – and how damaging. It said you went to Azkaban."

Still Harry said nothing.

"Is this true, Harry?" Lupin pressed.

"Yeah, it's true," answered Ron. "We had to."

Lupin nodded. "I admire your courage. But I grew troubled. Voldemort knows as well as we do how revealing the newspapers can be, and I knew he must have seen where you had gone and would very quickly deduce your trail, particularly as the _Prophet_ reported you not attending Hogwarts so far."

Lupin paused and unconsciously rubbed a scratch on his left arm.

"Whatever you're doing, Harry," he went on, a little more quietly, as though the walls themselves were listening; "I think you need to be aware that the situation has changed."

"I am aware, Remus," said Harry, a little defensively. "Voldemort knows what I'm trying to do –"

Ginny gasped.

"– But he can't stop me. And he hasn't yet, so I don't see why you're preaching to me about being _careful _when you haven't been there."

The moment Harry had said this, he regretted it.

Lupin said nothing for a moment, but his expression told Harry quite clearly that he would have been there had Harry asked him.

"Naturally when I heard about the attack in London early this morning, I admit, I panicked. I came here."

"How did you know to come here?" Hermione asked.

A wry smile passed over Lupin's lips. "I deduced from Harry's cryptic warning that we had to evacuate because Grimmauld Place was very unsafe. So, in theory, it would be somewhere Harry would go."

Harry swallowed.

"It's what James would have done," Lupin added, staring at the table. "And I have learnt invariably that you tend to follow similar patterns of behaviour."

Harry nodded and sat forward slightly.

"OK, I accept why you're here," he said to Lupin, but then he turned his head towards Ginny. "So what's this all about?" he asked her seriously.

Ginny flushed. "I'm not going to speak to you if you keep talking to me like a child!" she said hotly.

Ron and Hermione exchanged uneasy looks.

"We could go unload our stuff …" Ron suggested quietly.

Lupin appeared to take the hint and instigated a suggestion.

"Perhaps we should catch up elsewhere, Ron? Hermione?"

Ron and Hermione pushed their chairs back so quickly that there was a loud scraping noise as they got to their feet and left the kitchen without another word, leaving a heavy silence in their wake. Lupin also followed out silently.

Harry and Ginny sat in a stony silence for a good minute, neither looking at each other.

Ginny stood up suddenly.

"It's cold in here," she said abruptly and lit the fireplace with an impatient flick of her wand.

"Ginny, what are you doing here? Really?" Harry said wearily, rubbing his scar unconsciously.

Ginny's eyes flashed dangerously. "Why do you think, Harry? To see you of course!"

"Yeah? Well seeing me might just get you killed, did you even think about that?"

"Actually, I did! And do you know what? I don't care!"

Harry opened his mouth to retort something, but then found he couldn't. She had risked a lot, everything in fact, just to see him, and it terrified him.

Ginny frowned.

"Looks like _you_ don't care from where I'm standing."

"Of course I care," said Harry quietly, staring at his tea, the steam rising in little circles.

Ginny sat down and tried to engage Harry in eye contact, but he was deliberately avoiding her.

"I was home for the weekend when they got your message," she said shortly. "I asked Lupin what it was about. He wasn't going to tell me, but I explained that I really wanted to see you. He was so surprised that I'd figured out where he was going that he let me come. Mum and dad don't know."

"Why were you home?" said Harry, dodging the main subtext of her explanation.

"Lots of people have been doing it recently," she muttered. "McGonagall issued consent slips to everyone, in case they had to … leave suddenly. And I missed my mum."

Harry nodded.

"I miss your mum, too."

"Harry why won't you look at me?" she asked directly.

Harry stood up very quickly and walked over to the fire.

"Because I can't, Gin, alright? I said goodbye to you back at The Burrow and I –"

"– you thought it was going to be the last time we would see each other, didn't you!" Ginny exclaimed, firing up. "You just don't want to see me now because it interferes with your bloody death wish!"

Harry opened his mouth angrily and turned to face her properly for the first time. "I don't have a death wish! Voldemort's got a death wish _for_ me, in case you'd forgotten!"

"How could I possibly forget?" Ginny said sarcastically, raising her voice to a yell, her tone derisive. "That's the whole damn reason why you're not back at school right now! It's the _reason _we're not together!"

Harry shook his head. "No, he doesn't rule all my decisions, Ginny. _I_ said that don't think we should be together."

Ginny looked as though someone had slapped her hard across the face.

"What?"

Harry looked away.

"But you said …" Ginny started, angry tears glazing the surface of her burning hazel eyes. "You said … that was you for life … if I'll wait … and I said I would …"

Harry swallowed hard, praying that she wasn't going to cry, as he knew his resolve would not hold if she did.

"I know what I said."

"So what, were you just _lying_ to me?" she said quietly.

Harry turned around, his back to the fire.

"You don't deserve this, Ginny," he said abruptly.

"You're bloody right! I don't!" she said shrilly.

"You need stability, and I can't give you that. You need to be with someone who isn't looking over his shoulder his whole life … even if I get rid of Voldemort, there's always going to be something … you need –"

"– Stop telling me what I need!" Ginny shouted, as an angry tear fell and splashed down her sweater.

"Well I don't know how else to deal with this!" Harry shouted, matching her volume.

"I'm old enough to decide for myself what I want, and what I need! Why are you being such an arse?"

Harry took an angry step towards her. He wanted to shake her, to make her understand that he would never be good enough for her, but the monster inside him was clawing at him and ripping his insides out … he had never wanted to sacrifice anything less …

"I'm not! I'm trying to be practical!"

"Screw practicality, Harry! When does that ever come into love?"

They were feet apart, red in the face, shouting at each other.

"Somebody has to think about the long run!" Harry yelled. "You think I can come out of this? You're going to be waiting a bloody long time, Ginny!"

"Yeah? Well maybe that's MY decision to make!" she retorted. "And all of this, this reaction, this isn't about me being here now, is it? This is about you being scared!"

"No it's not!"

"YES IT IS! You've got Ron and Hermione as the closest friends, but you've never had anyone like me! Somebody who can know you intimately and love you like that … you're actually looking for a way out!"

"Then why do I feel like just giving up when I think about how I can't be with you?" Harry bellowed, wanting to grab her shoulders, to make her see …

Neither of them had realised, in their angry quarrel, how close they had gotten in the last few minutes. Their faces were inches apart; they were glaring at each other angrily – and then in a split second, both moved forwards in exactly the same moment and they were kissing fiercely, arms around each other, as though they could not get close enough.

Harry held Ginny tightly to him as he kissed her, never wanting to let her go or to let anyone take her away from him, and by the way she was clinging to him in exactly the same way, he knew she felt the same.

- - - - -

They lay on a mattress some hours later, side by side, staring at the ceiling in semi-darkness. It was surely past midnight and, since neither had seen them, they assumed that Ron and Hermione and Lupin had gone to bed.

Moonlight filtered through the grimy windows and the patched and frayed curtains, illuminating their faces. Ginny's eyes were closed, but when Harry looked at her, he knew she was not asleep; her breathing was still too unsettled.

He spoke softly through the darkness.

"Ginny …"

"Hmm …"

"I'm not scared of being _with_ you … I'm scared of _not_ being with you …"

Ginny rolled onto her side. "I know," she said. "I just wanted you to say it."

Harry closed his eyes. "Took me long enough then."

He felt her smile beside him.

"But you get what my problem is though, don't you?" he said seriously.

Ginny opened her eyes sleepily and turned to look at him.

"I understand that you don't what me involved now, Harry. Whatever you're doing now … I know you won't tell me, and that's OK. But when it comes to it … when it's the last battle … I _will_ be there."

"I know you will."

She closed her eyes and laid her head on his shoulder.

"There's something else I should tell you …" Harry began. "There was one time when … well, when I had to do something dangerous, and I knew there was a big chance that I'd die … and the only way I got through it was by thinking of you."

Ginny stirred slightly and Harry knew she was beginning to fall asleep.

"So you see, you can help now. You do."

And then he fell asleep.

- - - - -

Harry's dreams were the most unsettled he'd had for a good few months. Flashes of everything he had been thinking about seemed to pound his brain in a mixed up jumble.

He was entering Grimmauld Place for the first time ever, confronted by Sirius's shrieking, spitting mother who swiftly transformed into Voldemort, who was holding Hufflepuff's cup in the portrait. Harry made to take it from him but found that he himself was now stuck in the portrait. Imprisoned within the canvas, he watched in horror as Grimmauld Place changed and the Ministry scene flickered before his eyes; Sirius was falling through the veil … Harry was yelling, but he could not move; his arms seemed stuck by his side – and then in an instant, he had been immobilised by Dumbledore that fateful night atop the highest tower. Snape was drawing closer … Dudley was there for reasons unknown, and so was Kreacher –

Harry sat bolt upright on the mattress.

_Kreacher ... _how had he not thought of it before? His sudden movement awoke Ginny.

"Whassamatter?" she muttered, rubbing her eyes. It was still dark outside.

Harry shook his head violently, ridding his mind's eye of the dream images still swimming in his head; ignoring the Dumbledore's shocked face right in front of him –

"Harry, what's the matter?" Ginny said more clearly.

But Harry had already put his glasses on, swung his legs over the side of the bed and had crossed the room in a matter of seconds.

The bare, creaking floorboards were freezing against his bare feet, but he ignored this, lighting the lamps in the wall on his way. A door flew open to his right and Hermione emerged, flyaway hair everywhere.

"Has something happened?" she asked urgently.

Ron appeared behind her looking so drowsy he may have been sleepwalking.

They followed Harry as he jogged down the remainder of the landing.

"Harry, where are you going?" Hermione gasped

"Who is the one person," Harry said breathlessly over his shoulder as he ran down the stairs two at a time, "who was against us clearing out this house?"

Ron and Hermione exchanged confused looks.

"Which person?" said Ron. "Wasn't Sirius; he couldn't wait to be rid of most of it."

"All right then, not person. Which creature?" said Harry, coming to the bottom of the stairs.

Both Ron and Hermione gasped vehemently.

"_Kreacher!"_

"Exactly."

They had reached the entrance to the kitchen. Harry remembered, two years ago, when Hermione had insisted on giving Kreacher a Christmas present. Sirius had said that his _den _was under the boiler in the cupboard.

Harry crouched down and pulled the door open.

A disgustingly musty smell reached their nostrils and a voice from behind Hermione cried, "Urgh!" Ginny and Lupin had caught up.

"Harry, what's this about?" said Lupin. "Kreacher isn't here; I was told you sent him to work in the kitchens at Hogwarts!"

Harry ignored him and brushed away Bellatrix Lestrange's prized photograph in a cracked frame. There were lots of hidden objects in little piles; obviously what Kreacher had closely regarded as treasure worth saving from Sirius's purge.

An assortment of medals sat at the back next to the boiler; there was a yard of red string, a pair of frayed trousers, a ripped canvas of an old portrait, some rusty cufflinks, a moving velvet pouch and … a heavy silver locket.

Hands shaking, Harry reached in and drew it out by the chain.

Ron and Hermione appeared to be wrestling with intense fear and excitement.

"_Lumos,_" Harry whispered and held the locket up to his wand-light. There, emblazoned clearly on the front, was a large silver 'S' – Slytherin's mark.

Harry stood up shakily.

It was very heavy – much heavier than the fake he had been carrying around since Dumbledore's death. The chain was rusted, but the locket itself seemed in fairly good condition.

"That's Slytherin's locket, Harry, how did you –?" Lupin began, but he never finished his sentence.

In a huge explosion that shook the whole house, the windows around them were blown out with immense force and a harsh wind seemed to rush through the house. With a noise that felt like his head had been blown off, Harry watched, as though in slow motion, as glass flew towards all of them and the curtains billowed. He dimly registered that all the lights went out.

Harry was blasted to his knees with one thought on his mind.

_They found us._

- - - - -

* * *

**A/N: **Ha. Told you. Anyway … argh, I know you love the cliff-hangers … especially if I'm updating quicker! Please leave nice BIG reviews. Pretty please.

_Brittany: _Thanks for the suggestion – I may use it in this story, when Harry goes to Hogwarts … sorry, that was _IF _Harry goes to Hogwarts (damn it, I let it slip!) I had considered it before, but it probably won't crop up yet.

_Nat: _You've been checking everyday? Wow, that is a good reviewer. You get the prize lol.

_SillySeal: _Fear not, Snape will feature … possibly very soon. I miss the little grease ball too.

_Ana Sedai: _Thanks for the review – I think Harry has had to grow up a great deal in the past few years; I think he had his break down in book 5 and since then he has actually become a man, however I can't promise he won't fly off the handle in this story … with good reason of course!

_SammyLyn: _It sounds like you're famous!

_Sissy Space Dout: _I think JK tried to portray that that the _current _Gaunt's had lost their wealth. The castle in this story is supposed to have belonged to the previous generations. I see your point: I imagined the place to have a manor like feel to it, but still to all purposes be called a castle because I needed the turrets and such for the story.

_Elmire: _Thanks for the review, I don't actually have any exams, as it's all continuous assessment. Hope yours went OK though!

_Ruby: _Here is another update, so be happy! Lol. Lots of people have mentioned about Ron's Patronus, but I guess I missed that interview where JK revealed it. I used a lion due to Ron's fabulous roaring in the 4th film.

_anonymous3932: _Ah! It's Aslan! But you knew that, right? Daniel Radcliffe has abs? I must have missed them … too busy looking at Cedric.

_Lana: _Ooh, it's like you're prophetic.

_Aprila: _Yeah, I'd watch out for those Death Eaters when you're in London! They cancelled your play? Oh man, that sucks! Susan is like the best character! I wish I could shoot with a bow and arrow.

_Kessemm: _Argh I updated as quickly as I could … please don't reveal my secret to the authorities!


	22. The Nerve

_**MARKED

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'_The urge to utter a fatal curse was overwhelming. _

_How would they ever be rid of Voldemort if Harry kept letting his followers live?'

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_

**TWENTY TWO: The Nerve**

Hermione screamed as she was showered with glass from the blast. Momentarily dazed, Harry's brain was numbed for a moment; the idea that Voldemort had not only found the Order of the Phoenix Headquarters but had also found out where _he, _Harry, was, seemed mind-blowing.

Ron had instinctively thrown his arms over Hermione and Ginny and Lupin was grabbing Harry roughly by the arms and pulling him to his feet.

"Move, Harry! MOVE!"

_Move … _Part of Harry did not want to move … his body was not catching up quickly enough with his brain.

They all staggered backwards through a doorway just as a dozen red jets of light zoomed over their heads, missing them only by a fraction. One came so close it made Ginny's hair stand up.

Harry held the locket tightly in his hand, so tightly that it dug into his flesh and hurt. Somehow, holding it gave him a strong feeling, almost like Dumbledore was there with him, seeing as how the locket was what Dumbledore had died for …

There were shouts around him; it sounded like there were at least four Death Eaters. Harry had no idea of knowing whether or not Voldemort himself was there … the only thing he could go on was that his scar was not hurting … then again, this had been less of a warning over the past year.

Lupin crossed the room quickly and slammed the door shut.

"_Colloportus!"_ he said breathlessly.

"That won't hold them," Harry muttered, looking around the room they had stumbled into. It was an old study of sorts with patched furniture where the stuffing had come out of several of the leather armchairs.

"I know," Lupin conceded. "We shall have to move very quickly."

"Any reason we trapped ourselves in here?" said Ron half sarcastically, half exasperated.

Harry, breathing quickly, held up his wand above his head.

"_Revellious_!" he muttered.

For a moment, nothing happened, and then a shimmering golden dust floated elegantly out of his wand. All of them seemed transfixed by this apparition; so much so, they appeared deaf to the commotion just behind the sealed door.

The dust settled itself in an arch over the dust-encrusted bookcase.

Harry hurried over to it and gave it a hard push on the left hand side. The bookcase gave a great juddering shudder and moved backwards, revealing a dark passageway behind it.

He turned to Hermione, Ginny and Ron.

"Go," he said, pushing them towards the opening.

"Come off it," Ron said. "We're not leaving you on your own!"

Harry threw his hands up, exasperated. A hundred wild ideas ran through his head, each of them more unlikely than the last. Making a quick decision, he grabbed Hermione's hand and thrust the locket into it. If he stayed and fought, there was more chance of the Death Eaters taking it and giving it to Voldemort …

"Harry, you can't give me this!" she spluttered.

"Yes, I can," Harry said quickly. "Take it, and for god's sake keep it safe. Ginny, you follow Hermione out –"

"– No!" she retorted angrily before Harry had even finished his sentence.

"YES!" Harry shouted. It sounded now as though bodies were being hurled at the sealed door … it would not remain sealed for long.

"You have to … I can't leave Hermione on her own with that thing," he said. "Please, Ginny … there's lots of murder-happy Death Eaters inches away and we can't afford to let them see you're out of school!"

"Why not?" she demanded.

Harry let out a little roar of frustration. Would she never understand?

"Because they won't only see how we feel about each other – they'll see you're vulnerable! Hogwarts is the only safe place left!"

Ginny stared at Harry for a moment before she squeezed his hand.

"Be careful!" she said, and before Harry could even say 'same to you,' both she and Hermione were gone, hastily shutting the bookcase behind them.

The door gave an almighty shudder.

"Quick, come here, both of you," Harry said to Ron and Lupin before pulling something out of the inside of his jacket. It was his Invisibility Cloak – he carried it with him everywhere.

With an effort, he threw it over the three of them, crouched as low as they could go so it covered all of them.

And then, as he knew it would, the door gave way.

- - - - -

"Why have we got to keep that so safe?" Ginny hissed at Hermione in a hushed, anxious tone.

Neither of them had lit their wands for fear of attracting attention and so had their hands firmly following the damp wall.

"Long story," Hermione replied, treading carefully.

Ginny was silent for a moment, sensing Hermione's fear.

"Any idea where this goes?" she asked after a minute or two.

Hermione stopped for a second and scratched her head.

"Well … I think we seem to be going east, and the front of Grimmauld Place faces north … this passageway seems to be going upwards so … I would imagine we'll end up somewhere near the attic – if we're lucky that is."

But both of them stopped suddenly, having heard voices on their left.

Hermione went to open her mouth, but Ginny held a trembling finger to her lips. The Death Eater's voices were so muffled that they could discern nothing from the conversation; but this did nothing to lessen their fear.

When the noise had died down, Hermione moved cautiously onwards with Ginny in her wake.

- - - - -

The door fell with a crash on the dusty wooden floor, blown clean off its hinges. Harry held his breath as two figures clad in long black cloaks entered the room, wands aloft. They scanned the room within seconds and appeared to instantly come to the conclusion that it was empty, for they removed their masks.

Harry instantly recognised Macnair, Buckbeak's would-be-killer, by his thick neck, bulging upper arms and mean piggy eyes. He was accompanied by, Harry saw with a rush of pure hatred, Bellatrix Lestrange; Sirius's killer.

Harry felt Lupin's grip on his shoulder tighten considerably, his fingers biting into his shoulder and knew that, very possibly, Lupin hated her as much as he did.

"I thought you said they came in here, Macnair?" said Bellatrix spitefully. "Are you blind, man?"

Macnair narrowed his eyes.

"I swear they did," he said quietly. "Perhaps they're hiding under a little desky wesky like babies …"

Macnair strode over to the dilapidated desk in the corner and gave it a rough kick. It shattered instantly. Momentarily safe on the other side of the room, Harry, Ron and Lupin made no sound.

Bellatrix Lestrange's mouth wound itself into a cruel smile.

"Not under the desk … maybe they're still here …"

"Think you're the blind one?" spat Macnair.

"Fine. Go and look in the cellar or find the others."

Bellatrix scowled deeply at Macnair as he left the room, slamming the door shut. She began to stride around the room at ease, twiddling her wand in between her thumbs. Harry's initial fear had been replaced by a sudden urge to pull her head back and slit her throat …

"I know you're here, little Potter … even if I can't see you …"

She was taunting him and it was driving him crazy … a sudden recklessness to attack overcame him but at the same time he didn't want to put the others in danger … a plan had formed hazily in his mind the moment they had entered the room, but he was doubtful that it would work. All the same, he gripped Ron's arm under the cloak.

Ron turned his head as slowly as he dared towards Harry who had mouthed the words "_Prince_".

Harry could not tell whether or not Ron had understood; but he daren't be any clearer. Unless they moved soon, she would surely step on them. Harry nudged Lupin to let him know he was about to move –

The second Harry had thrown the cloak off in one swift movement, Ron shouted "_Muffliato!"_ at the doorway.

Perhaps it was the fact that she had not counted on three bodies emerging out of thin air, but Bellatrix did not react as quickly as Harry did.

"STUPEFY!" he uttered with rage, wand raised.

Her face contorted into shock and she raised her wand, but too late. She fell against a faded tapestry with a crash but, with luck, the other Death Eaters would hear none of this, thanks to Ron's Charm.

Struggling against the still operating jinx, Bellatrix flayed her arms around and attempted to get to her feet, but she could not. Harry advanced on her, his eyes narrowed.

"Oh very good little man, very good," she muttered, her black sunken eyes darting around the room. "Always said you knew how to play, didn't I?" she went on mockingly, despite being completely at his mercy.

"Why are you here?" Harry said in an expressionless voice though his heart was pounding.

She did not answer him at first. Instead her face glinted malevolently in the light of Lupin's wand as she fixed her black eyes upon him.

"Have you got the nerve this time, Potter?" she hissed at him quietly. Ron glanced nervously at the door.

Harry's blood began to boil at the sound of her barbed voice with the implied tone that despite the situation, she still called the shots. Harry realised, in that instant, that he hated her almost as much as he hated Snape. Lupin stepped forwards swiftly, sensing the impending curse.

"Do not play games, Lestrange," he spat. "You are outnumbered here –"

"- It appears the _werewolf_ can't count either!"

"We could kill you in a second, you fool," Lupin went on coldly. "Answer us, why are you here?"

Bellatrix's nostrils dilated in excitement. Harry wondered how much she knew. Voldemort surely would not have revealed information about his Horcruxes to anyone.

"Orders, orders," she said in a singsong voice. She then turned her dark head towards Harry. "All alone now, are we? Now Dumby's dead?"

Harry raised his wand.

"No, Harry! We can use her!" said Lupin, grabbing his arm.

She began to laugh; a shrill, slightly demented laugh that sent a chill down Harry's spine. Struggling against his revulsion, Harry knelt down slightly so he was on her level.

"What orders?" he said.

She glared at him. "I will never betray the Dark Lord! You may do all you wish, but I shall never say!" she said shrilly. "I am his most faithful, his most trusted accomplice! He trusts me beyond all others … I am –"

"You're deluded," Harry said sharply. "Voldemort doesn't trust anyone and he never has. I'd have thought you'd have figured that out by now."

She snarled at him. "You are, and shall forever be, Potter – _jealous_! Jealous you did not join us from the very beginning! And I shall never say a word!"

"We're wasting our time," muttered Lupin in a low voice. "She won't tell us anything – Harry, Ron … go and see if you can locate the other Death Eaters and see how many there are … take out any you can. I'll keep a watch on her."

Harry peered dubiously into Lupin's grey eyes, unwilling to leave him alone with Bellatrix Lestrange. After all, she had killed Sirius …

"I don't think …"

"Harry, we don't have much of a choice. Unless I summoned the rest of the Order –"

"– No!" said Harry sharply. "If they come, they'll get involved in everything … I don't want to put them in any more danger than they're already in."

"_Ahhh_ …" Bellatrix crooned from the floor. "Such a thoughtful boy …"

Harry turned his wand on her, quick as a flash.

"_Incarcerous!" _he said boldly. Thick ropes shot out of the end of his wand with a bang and wrapped themselves tightly around Bellatrix's throat and torso. Now he was sure she could not escape, he turned back to Lupin.

"All right … but be careful, OK?"

Lupin gave him a brief smile.

"Go on. And quickly!"

Ron pushed Harry reluctantly out of the room and they closed the door behind them.

"Cloak, d'you reckon?" he suggested.

"Definitely," Harry replied, pulling the silvery water-like material from his pocket and throwing it over the both of them.

They came upon Macnair not far ahead, inspecting one of the empty store cupboards in the hallway. Harry pulled his wand out from underneath the cloak and aimed it at Macnair.

The urge to utter a fatal curse was overwhelming. How would they ever be rid of Voldemort if Harry kept letting his followers live?

Ron seemed to sense something as he turned sideways under the cloak to glance at Harry as he shook his head a fraction of a centimetre to the left.

Harry turned back to the hulking figure of Macnair and pointed his wand.

With all his might, hoping beyond hope that he could pull it off this time, he closed his eyes and thought _Petrificus Totalus _in his head.

Macnair's body seized up and became as stiff as a board, keeling over sideways with a crash, his eyes blank and staring.

Ron threw the cloak off as soon as Macnair was immobile.

"Harry … I know what you were thinking … but you're better than that."

"Yeah … but he'll just get free," Harry replied in a hushed tone, choosing to ignore the real reason of why he couldn't kill Macnair.

"If you'd done … _that_ then," Ron began, "That would've been murder. That's what makes us different from them! It makes _you _different because you're not a killer, Harry … whatever that damn prophecy says."

There was no time for Harry to be able to express to Ron in words how much he appreciated having him here with him, next to him in these situations – how much he appreciated having a best friend who was able to pull him back and remind him what kind of a person he was. Instead he settled for a nod and a look in his eyes, which he hoped was enough for the time being. Ron seemed to think that it was, as he pulled the cloak back over them.

- - - - -

"We've been hiding under here for _ages, _Hermione!" Ginny hissed.

"_Shh_!" Hermione shushed back, her eyes wide. "They might still be here!"

They were hiding under broken bed up in the attic, lying on the dusty wooden floor. The secret passageway they had followed out of the study, in which Lupin was now encased with Bellatrix Lestrange, had opened out into the attic via a secret bookcase.

"They can't still be here … they'll be looking for the others!" Ginny said insistently.

"Well what do you propose we do, Ginny?" said Hermione testily. "Jump up and down on the bed and announce, '_We're here! Come up and kill us!_'"

"No," Ginny snapped back. "Have a look!"

And with that, she slid herself out from under the narrow space in which they had crammed themselves and brushed herself off.

"Ginny! Don't be stupid!" Hermione screeched in a whisper.

"I'm not going to crouch under there like a child and wait for them to find me," Ginny uttered, her face red.

Hermione clutched at the locket in her sweaty hand, very aware of the fact that Harry had entrusted her with it. She couldn't possibly run around a house full of Death Eaters with one of Voldemort's last Horcruxes! But at the same time, she _couldn't _separate from Ginny …

"Alright! Hold on, I'm coming …"

And she followed her cautiously out of the room.

- - - - -

Harry and Ron encountered the other two Death Eaters on the first floor. One of them was Mulciber; the other he had never seen had a pale face and had a rather sickly look about him. Harry was therefore not surprised when his Curse sent him down so quickly.

Ron managed to pull off the non-verbal casting of _Impedimenta _for the first time and could not help looking rather pleased with himself as Mulciber was blasted into the wall and knocked out cold when he hadn't uttered a single word.

Harry and Ron kicked, rolled and forcefully shoved the two Death Eaters unceremoniously back to where Macnair lay, still frozen, and Harry performed the same incarcerating spell on them as he had done on Bellatrix.

"There's a nice package for the Ministry when we're gone," Harry said darkly. "That'll give them something to report at last."

"Best to make sure they don't get away again … or Apparate," said Ron, taking out his wand.

"_Immobilus_!" Ron said, pointing his wand at the air surrounding the three dazed Death Eaters. They all became instantly still, though Macnair was already unmoving.

"Good thinking," Harry said, lowering his wand. "I suppose we'd better go and find the others –"

"– Drop the wand, Potter," came a cold voice as hard as iron from directly behind him.

Harry did not drop his wand, but revolved slowly on the spot to see who had spoken, though he knew already.

Bellatrix Lestrange stood behind him, her face triumphant, her right hand clutching her wand out of which there seemed to be a long stringy beam of red light that had wrapped itself around the neck of –

"Remus!" Harry started, taking a step towards him.

"No, Harry! Stay back!" Lupin spluttered. He was red in the face; the beam of red magic seemed to be slowly strangling him.

"Drop it, Potter," Bellatrix repeated, her face alight with excitement.

Harry lowered his arm, as did Ron, but he did not drop the wand.

"Let Lupin go, and I'll let you and your pals walk out of here," he said wildly, not intending to do either.

"You're not really in a position to bargain, are you? I think we've been in this situation before, Potter."

She cracked her wand like a whip and Lupin gasped instantly, clutching at his neck.

"The question is," she went on mercilessly, "is whether or not you have enough grit to let somebody _else_ die for you. You shall surely run out of protectors soon …"

Harry swallowed hard, thinking fast, trying to ignore her words which in fact cut through him like a cold hard knife.

"I suppose the other question is; do you have enough friends to keep doing this?"

Harry clenched and unclenched his fists. "Let Lupin go … and we'll go our separate ways."

"I'm impressed with how you and your little friends silenced the rest of us … very impressed. I shall inform the Dark Lord of your newly grown up status …" She looked like she was suppressing a giggle.

"I won't say it again," Harry pressed.

"So why did you not do that two years ago, Potter? Where was your unsurpassable magical skill when I murdered your dear godfather?"

Harry gripped his wand so tightly that the pain in his hand almost caused him to not notice the glasses on the shelves behind them all shatter. Somehow, Harry's temper, as it had done so many times before, had caused something around him to explode.

"Here's the thing, Potter. Either you give me the locket that my Lord wants or I'll strangle your friend here."

She flicked her wand again and Lupin gasped, trying to grab the magical rope around his neck but being unable to hold it. Still it held him fast.

"Make your choice, Mr Potter."

Lupin now appeared as though he could not breathe.

"I don't have it!" Harry said, playing for time … time, by the looks of it, he did not have.

"I do," came a voice from behind them all.

Everyone turned, in spite of themselves. It was Hermione.

"Hermione, get back," Harry spat, now more terrified than he had been before.

"I don't have time to play your games, children," Bellatrix drawled, raising her wand with an air of finality. "Looks like you shall have to live with the death of yet another friend, Potter."

She pulled her wand upwards tightly. Lupin's arms twitched and his legs kicked. Harry's breath was caught in his throat.

"If you want this," Hermione said in a shaking voice of anxiety, dangling the ornate locket from her fingers, "then you'll have to come and get it."

In a split second, Bellatrix released the curse binding Lupin in order to cast another spell. The red energy disappeared with a misty haze and Lupin fell gasping to the floor, clutching his throat and wheezing horribly.

"ACCIO LOCKET!" she yelled, pointing her wand at Hermione.

There was an instant where Harry was sure his heart had stopped, but Hermione reacted so quickly, Harry was not even aware that she had saved the situation as she had shouted "_Protego!"_ before Bellatrix had even finished her spell and therefore retained the locket.

Harry did not even think. He reacted on complete instinct and by the time he had pointed his wand at the hated, once striking face of Bellatrix Lestrange, he did not even realise he was saying the words.

"_Avada Kedavra!" _

As the jet of green light shot from the end of his own wand, he was almost fairly sure that it wouldn't have worked. It _couldn't _have worked … he had never done it before. But as the jet connected with her body and her eyes widened in complete disbelief, he knew.

The whole scene flickered oddly slowly before Harry's eyes as though he was watching an old movie. But although he felt detached, he would never forget the crunch as she fell to the ground and landed on the glass.

She was dead. And he had killed her.

- - - - -

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**A/N: **Dark and sinister … that was really difficult to write, as I didn't really know how far to take it. Bella had to die for purposes of the story, but I'm really scared now about what you all think … please be nice! Not that I'm trying to tell you how to live your life or anything.

_Mystikalolo: _This wasn't too much of a wait! And there, less of a cliffhanger.

_Chica Linda Gatita: _Thanks for the review. You couldn't find ANYTHING to criticise? Surely not! I'm cured!

_RainDateChick: _Lol ok, I won't dispute Daniel Radcliffe's abs ever again.

_Hershey: _Oh how thoughtful! I did have a good holiday, but yes, I wanted to finish this chapter!

_Starry Sky44: _10 chapters? Wow, that is dedication!

_Anonymous3932: _Lol calm down! I hope that you have never tried drugs. As for Kreacher's death … I'm not really sure I need that in the story. Perhaps I'll do a poll.

_Too Lazy To Log in: _Ah! I Ginny basher! Lol, we're all entitled to our opinions …

_Mi Ana I Numen: _Ah, well of course I cannot completely answer those questions. There WILL be some R/H romance at some point … Ginny will feature again, but I won't say how.

_Cortez: _I love your name btw. Um … well that's a tough one. There will be some Voldemort action soon enough … but who says the snake will even feature? If we're going on Dumbledore's hunches that is.

_Dash1p: _Thanks! Hope this wasn't too long.

_Funny Cide: _You used the word stupendous and my story in the same sentence! I love that word! You can be the reviewer of the week.

_Signoritarosa: _I loved Narnia. Harry and Lupin will have a proper chat next time … but you know you can never avoid the cliffhangers!

_Urd no super Hentai: _Kisses from Voldy? Oh alright then. And yes. I am going to kill Bellatrix lol. Hope your essays went OK.

_VoidArts: _Well the main point I wanted to portray in the last chapter is how dangerous society is for Muggles as well, not only in London, but everywhere. True, it was coincidental that Harry was there (again, this is all relative fiction let's not forget) but I also wanted to hint that Voldemort may know more than the audience thinks: such as where Harry is and what he is doing. The other important factor I wanted to show was that Voldemort's Death Eaters are growing. I simply used Avery because I knew he had messed up in the past. Lucius would have been better, but he shall be locked up for a few more chapters. As for Kreacher, he is, quite simply, a magpie, like Voldemort. He would have had no idea of the value of the locket and certainly not that it was a Horcrux. I also believe that after Kreacher lied to Harry about where Sirius was that he believed he would have the entire house to himself, and therefore would not care to hide anything.


	23. Lessons in Morality

_**MARKED

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"_You can't pretend that I didn't … that I didn't mean it! _

_She took away one of the only things I had left and I … she needed to die."_

_

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**TWENTY THREE: Lessons in Morality**

The scene had frozen. Nobody moved an inch. Even Lupin, who had been painfully drawing breath through wheezes on the floor, fell instantly silent. Harry's wand arm was raised, his fingers trembling but his arm apparently unable to shift its position.

Bellatrix Lestrange's face was white and shocked, drawn and pale, but nevertheless, dead, staring up at them all; her body had crumpled in an odd angle with her arms sticking up grotesquely behind her head.

Ginny moved her foot slightly, having joined them all unnoticed when Hermione had saved the Horcrux; before Bellatrix fell.

"Harry …" she whispered quietly.

Harry moved his wand arm down so suddenly that they all jumped. He still wasn't looking at them, but was staring at Bellatrix, unable to break the frozen dead gaze she held him in.

Nobody seemed to want to break this; they appeared to be frightened of shattering something holding Harry together if anyone said anything more.

Lupin was the first to move. It seemed to break the spell.

Hermione rushed forward to him, followed by Ron. They helped him to his knees as he massaged his neck.

"Are you alright, Professor?" Hermione said anxiously.

"Yes … I'll be OK in a second, Hermione …" he said in an oddly strained voice.

Ginny was still looking at Harry as though she was scared of moving. Harry turned his head slowly towards her, and then wished in an instant that he hadn't. The look he saw in her hazel eyes chilled him to the bone; she had never been frightened of him before, but she was eying him as though she no longer knew who he was, as though he truly was someone else. It was exactly how he felt; oddly detached from his body and every time he tried to enter it again, he felt sick at what he had done, yet oddly dazed.

"We can stay here no longer," Lupin said faintly, dissolving Harry's whirl of horror. "It isn't safe to assume Voldemort himself will not come looking in this place when he learns that his Death Eaters have failed."

Ron nodded. "Where can we go? You're house?"

Lupin nodded, getting to his feet. "Yes. It isn't far from here, and it's Unplottable, so we shall be safe for a time. That is, if everyone will consent to come?" he added, inclining his head towards Harry, whose anger at Ginny and Lupin's interfering seemed to belong to a life he no longer had.

Hermione stepped forwards. "Yes, I think that would be best for the time being."

"Are the other Death Eaters secure, Ron?"

"Yes, we used _Incarcerous _on them, and Immobilised the air. They won't be free for a while."

"Good, we'll leave straightaway and send a message to the Ministry from my house."

"Shouldn't we do that now?" asked Hermione, her eyes travelling over the corpse at her feet and tucking the locket securely in her pocket.

Lupin shook his head gingerly. "No … I don't want to linger. There are more important things to consider, such as _why _they found us here …"

Lupin's words nudged Harry's temporarily stupefied brain into hazy action.

"The Secret Keeper …" he said slowly, finally taking his eyes off Bellatrix. "Somebody must've …"

"Yes," Lupin said simply. "Come; we must go."

- - - - -

They did not risk walking to Lupin's, no matter how close it was. Instead, they used Side-Along Apparition, all gripping each other's arms tightly. Hermione appeared anxious that Lupin would not be up to moving anywhere, let alone walking. Despite this, he proved them all wrong by managing to get them all safely to his house.

Harry had never been to Lupin's house. It was very, very small and matched his current appearance perfectly. There was no entrance hall; the front door opened directly up into the sitting room in which there was a squashy, decrepit green armchair next to a table with a lamp atop it, casting a soft, but nevertheless cosy glow over the shabby room. Lupin's desk contained many papers, strewn untidily across the mahogany top, so that very little desk could be seen. To the left was a small kitchenette, comprising of a single stove, a kettle, a sink and a small window that faced out into the street outside.

"Please, sit down," Lupin told them, flicking his wand and conjuring another armchair out of thin air. He directed it again at the kettle on the stove and it came alive, making tea entirely independently.

Lupin sank into the nearest armchair and again rubbed his neck.

"Will you please let me have a look at that?" said Hermione sternly, raising from the chair.

Lupin waved a hand unconcernedly. "It's nothing, really."

But she was already pushing his hand away and holding the ignited tip of her wand to his neck.

"That looks nasty, Professor … I can heal it in a second if you'd let me."

Lupin smiled wryly. "Very well, if you insist."

"Annoying, isn't she?" said Ron.

"I would have said remarkably intelligent," Lupin conceded as Hermione healed the red and raw traces of the dark magic from his throat.

"What happened, Professor?" Ginny said from a chair in the corner.

Lupin rubbed his eyes and thanked Hermione before beginning a weary explanation.

"I am not sufficiently accomplished at Legilimency to break into minds as strong as Bellatrix Lestrange's was I am afraid. I intended to find out more as to why they had come, but she used very skilled Occlumency to stop me, and then took the advantage of mind power. I was powerless for a few moments to do anything except watch her free herself from the charm. I was foolish …"

The rest of the company were silent. Harry knew that all of them were thinking about Lupin's use of the word 'was'.

"Hermione, would you please use the fireplace in the next room to let the Ministry know that there are five Death Eaters at Grimmauld Place to be collected and done with as the Minister sees fit."

"Yes," Hermione said, standing.

"Ron, Ginny … you may go upstairs and go into the first and second rooms on the left; you can all stay here tonight, I think, but you'll need to make up some beds."

"Sure," said Ron rising, but Ginny did not get out of her seat. She was still watching Harry out of the corner of her eye, apparently lost in thought.

"C'mon, Ginny," Ron pressed.

Ginny rose very slowly and got to her feet, following Ron as though she too was in a trance. Harry heard the sound of their footsteps ascending up the stairs behind him and knew the moment had come to talk about what had just happened.

Lupin rose slowly from his chair and went to pour the ready made tea. Harry was staring at the carpet, seeing nothing but Bellatrix's face.

Lupin returned and pressed the steaming cup into Harry's hands.

"Drink this, Harry. I put a shot of Firewhisky in it; it'll numb the shock."

Harry pressed the edge of the cup to his lips and took a sip of the hot liquid. It warmed his stomach and burned his throat slightly but did nothing to erase the chill surrounding his heart.

"Harry, look at me …" Lupin said.

Harry slowly raised his head and fixed Lupin with his green eyes over the top of the steaming tea. Lupin's grey ones were full of concern.

"First of all, I want to thank you for saving my life."

Harry tried to say that it was OK, but found his throat somewhat restricted.

"How do you feel?" Lupin asked.

"Sick," Harry replied.

"You have no need to, Harry. What happened –"

"– I killed somebody. I – I … murdered somebody."

"No," said Lupin very quickly. "No, you did not. Yes, you took a life, but it was a necessity. It was not planned or done with a cold heart. You did _not _murder that woman, Harry."

Harry said nothing but stared into his tea.

"I know it's a shock," Lupin said kindly. "The first life one takes always stays with you … but you must not think yourself a murderer."

Harry nodded, trying to push her staring eyes out of his mind.

"Think, for a moment if you will, what else you could have done in that situation," Lupin said, leaning forward slightly, "bearing in mind she was about to end my life."

Harry shrugged nonchalantly. "I dunno … Stunned her maybe."

Lupin raised his eyebrows. "Perhaps … what if she had deflected it?"

Harry said nothing but he closed his eyes slightly.

"You had no choice, Harry. What you did –"

"– BUT I _WANTED_ TO DO IT!" Harry burst suddenly, the increased volume of his voice surprising even him. "I _wanted_ her dead! Ever since she killed Sirius right in front of me I'd fantasised about it … I wanted to kill her and I wanted to do it myself!"

Lupin had not jumped at Harry's outburst. He was looking at him calmly.

"You can't pretend that I didn't … that I didn't mean it! She took away one of the only things I had left," Harry went on a little quieter. "And I … she needed to die," he finished quietly, almost ashamedly.

There was a slight pause where Lupin seemed to want to make absolutely sure that Harry had finished. Finally, he spoke.

"You had a chance to end her life in that room, Harry. When she was at your feet, taunting you, bad-mouthing Dumbledore … you had every opportunity then to kill her for her sins. But you did not. Because you are not a murderer."

"That's what Ron said," Harry muttered almost inaudibly.

"Then he knows you better than you perhaps know yourself," said Lupin gently. "You did what you did on instinct, and instinct alone. Bellatrix Lestrange did deserve to die for what she did, and so do many others in the employ of Voldemort, but what happened happened because, for you, there was no other option."

"But what if my instincts were wrong?"

Lupin gave him a wry smile. "Some will be wrong, in time. But Albus always trusted your instincts, Harry, _always._ He told me once that you had the strongest sense of morality he had ever known in a student that passed through his school. Therefore he trusted you and your judgement. As do I."

Harry felt his eyes burn, but he could also not get out of his head the savage thought that Dumbledore had also trusted Severus Snape.

"I can't do this anymore …" Harry said slowly, more to himself than to Lupin.

"Yes, you can," Lupin said firmly.

"How can I possibly be expected to kill Voldemort if this is how I feel every time I …?"

"Every time you what? Defend a friend? Take a life on the spur of the moment if the alternative is losing somebody you love? What if that had been Ginny that Bellatrix had? Would you have acted differently?"

Harry thought. "No," he answered as something hit home very suddenly.

"This feeling you have now … it will pass. And it may well come to you again at some point during this path you have chosen."

"I didn't choose it," Harry said very quickly. "It chose me. _He _chose me."

Aware that they had moved into the territory of the Prophecy, Harry changed his point.

"There's just so much to do …"

"Will you let me help you?" Lupin said sincerely.

Harry opened his mouth and closed it again. It would be so comforting to share the huge burden of knowledge Dumbledore had bestowed on him and then left him to deal with it alone. Lupin was an adult … and a friend …

"You can't," Harry said.

"Why not?"

"Because there're certain things I just can't tell you … it's too risky … and I'll never stop following Dumbledore's orders."

"I'm not asking you to betray his confidence, Harry. If all I can do for you is be here at times like this when you simply need to talk or if you wish to go over some advanced spells now you are not at school …"

Harry nodded gratefully. "Yeah … you take full credit for my Patronus, you know."

Lupin laughed.

There was a moments silence between them.

"There was one time," Lupin began, looking away from Harry and out of the window, as though he had temporarily gone somewhere else, "when I was many years younger than I am now … not much older than you are in fact. I found myself in the midst of a war; the very war we are fighting now. I had had my fair share of pain with being a werewolf and so I was a reluctant fighter to say the least."

"What changed your mind?" Harry asked as Lupin paused.

"Your father. Your father's courage, and Sirius's belief that we could win. Anyway before long, against Dumbledore's wishes it's true, but your father, Sirius and I found ourselves in amongst a group of young Death Eaters."

"Why didn't Dumbledore want you to fight?"

"We were young, foolish … reckless I suppose you could say. We may have even gone looking for trouble at various points," he added with a nostalgic smile.

Harry listened silently.

"But that day changed everything. Your father, Sirius and I stood with our wands out and duelled with these Death Eaters. They weren't much older than us I suppose, and we were cocky. However, there was one much older man, obviously more dangerous than the rest – we could tell by the spells he was firing. There came a point where he had your father and Sirius at very close range, and somehow I knew that unless I did something, he would have killed them both."

"What happened?" Harry asked, feeling unnerved, though he thought he knew the answer before Lupin gave it.

"I did it first. I drew my wand and I killed the Death Eater because my instincts told me to."

There was a pause.

"We managed to evade the situation eventually, but when the drama had passed and I sat alone, I felt exactly as you feel now; sick, a little disgusted with myself …"

Harry swallowed.

"Dumbledore came to my home the very next day. I expected him to be angry with all three of us for being so foolhardy, but he was not. In fact, instead of a reprimand, we were all inducted into the Order of the Phoenix that very same day."

"Really?" Harry said.

"Yes. So you see, in a situation of kill or be killed, there is no right or wrong move. It is all down to instinct. But I still relive that moment over and over in my head sometimes when I close my eyes; not so often now, of course, but I see his face still."

"Does it get easier?"

"Yes," Lupin said simply. "The images fade with time. It never gets easier to take a life, Harry. But after what just happened, I'll ask you one question: do you still want to kill Voldemort?"

Harry thought of all the people he had lost at the hands of Voldemort and how much misery and destruction he had caused. Did that all give him the right to end the pathetic excuse for a life Voldemort lived?

"Yes."

- - - - -

Hermione came back not long after Harry and Lupin's conversation, her hands together.

"I didn't think it was a good idea to actually go to the Ministry, in case they wanted to question me about Harry and everything, so I wrote the details on a piece of parchment and sent it via Floo powder."

"Good thinking," Lupin said. "They won't know where it came from; there's an anti tracking charm surrounding my fireplace. Very useful."

Hermione sat down beside Harry in the squashy green chair and put her hand on his, resting in his lap.

"Are you all right?"

Harry looked at her properly.

"Yes, I'm fine."

Ron and Ginny took that moment to descend the stairs.

"We've made up two beds in the first room and two in the second," said Ron.

Ginny snorted. "You mean _I _made up the beds while you watched."

Ron's ears went slightly red. "Yeah, well. Mum does it at home," he mumbled.

Hermione giggled.

"Thank you, you two. Or Ginny," Lupin conceded. "Right, I have a little food; we should perhaps eat something before we turn in."

Lupin stood up and went over to the small kitchenette before opening numerous cupboards and lining up plates with his wand. Harry could feel all of their eyes on him.

"Look …" he began, but Ron cut across him.

"You don't have to explain anything to us, Harry. What happened happened because you thought on your feet. We would've done the same thing."

Harry rather doubted that this was true, but he appreciated it all the same.

- - - - -

After some ham and cheese sandwiches, they all went up to bed, exhausted and each needing some form of personal space. This was not entirely possible as, except for Lupin, they were sharing rooms. Ron did not begin snoring until at least an hour had passed and Harry, gazing up at the ceiling as he lay on his back, knew that this was because Ron had been just as affected by that evening as he had.

Even after Ron was asleep, Harry could not close his eyes. He had listened to what Lupin had said and was not as horrified as he was, but he still felt detached from himself, as though he had aged ten years in one moment without realising it.

Without really thinking about what he was doing, Harry slipped his legs out of the bed and put his feet on the cold wooden floor. The creaking floorboards did not wake Ron.

He tiptoed down the stairs and sat in the darkness on one of the green chairs, the orangey light from the streetlamp outside cast an eerie glow across the wooden floor and the rugs carpeting it.

It was a few moments before Harry realised that someone was sitting beside him; he had not noticed.

"Hi," Ginny said quietly.

"Hi."

"I couldn't sleep either."

Neither spoke for a moment, until Harry could not stop himself asking her the question he had wanted to since they had left Grimmauld Place.

"Ginny, why did you look at me like that, after … after?"

Ginny did not answer himself straightaway. She seemed to be weighing her words very carefully.

"Because the moment that it happened, I realised something."

"What?"

"Everything you have to do … the kind of future that you might have … and the way I've been acting."

"What do you mean?"

"You've been trying to keep me safe from things like that and I've thrown it back in your face. I still want to fight … but seeing you kill that awful woman … makes me realise what you face everyday."

Harry was silent.

"It's like you've changed so much … I'm scared you won't want something as trivial as what we have … or _will _have."

"Ginny … what happened earlier … at Grimmauld Place, before the Death Eaters came … what we have is _not _trivial, and I still want it, no matter what happens between now and … and then."

"But all of this … it's going to change you."

"I'll still be me."

He reached for her hand in the darkness.

"You want me to go back to school tomorrow, don't you?" Ginny said.

Harry nodded and she saw his resolve through the misty glow of the streetlamp.

"I love you being here, but …"

"– I know. You can't risk it."

He had felt it before, that day by the lake after Dumbledore's funeral, but once again, Harry knew that they understood each other perfectly.

- - - - -

Ginny left the next morning without saying goodbye to any of them. Ron was indignantly surprised at this, but Harry had somewhat expected it and, in a way, he preferred it; it was too hard to say goodbye to her all over again.

"Why'd she leave like that? That's just … rude!" Ron said pulling on a spare pair of socks on the edge of his bed the next morning.

"Because she didn't want to leave, Ron," Hermione replied calmly. "No goodbyes, it was easier."

"Yeah, easier for her!"

"You mustn't worry, Ron," said Lupin. "She left via Floo powder, and my fire is untraceable."

"It's not just that … it's just – I'll miss her."

Hermione put a hand on his shoulder. "I know. But I'm here."

Harry cleared his throat gruffly and crossed the room. Ron went very red around the ears and Hermione seemed to become aware of Harry's presence.

They were sat in the sitting room minutes later with hot cups of tea. Lupin was sat at the kitchen table pouring through the _Daily Prophet._

"Two more deaths this week," he said grimly. "One was Jonathan Mayer; he was big at the Ministry."

"Who was the other one?"

"A Muggle. Mayer tried to intervene and they were both overcome in seconds … Ministry had a big clear up to do … it was all very public."

Harry shifted slightly in his seat. He turned to Hermione.

"Do you still have the locket in your pocket?" he said in a low voice.

She nodded and reached into her pocket, taking it in her hands. It looked exactly the same.

"When are we going to … you know?"

"Soon," Harry replied, very aware of the fact that now they had it, it needed to be destroyed as soon as possible.

"Wish my pockets were as exciting," muttered Ron, reaching into his own. "Look, all I've got is a hankie and … ooh, a Chocolate Frog. Hungry, Harry?"

He threw Harry the small Chocolate Frog. Harry wasn't hungry, but he opened it out of habit to see what the card was. He extricated the chocolate and flipped the card over. His stomach turned over.

It was Dumbledore.

"Oh," Hermione said, looking at it worriedly. "Um, here, Harry, I'll take it …" But before she could, something happened that none of them had expected.

"_Hello, Harry."_

Harry blinked. The card was talking.

- - - - -

* * *

**A/N: **Ooh, what can this mean? I know... but you won't until the next chapter lol. I just wanted to say a BIG thanks to EVERYONE who reviewed last chapter; I left my inbox for like 2 days and then found that I had over 60 reviews for ONE chapter. It's a personal best. So big-up you guys. 

_SammyLyn: _Yes I do celebrate xmas. Lol. Thanks, you too.

_Annonymous3932: _Well, as you can see, killing somebody really changed things for Harry. But the difference between him and Voldy still stands: Harry's soul is still intact as he has friends who can bring him back and love him. Voldie doesn't want that. As for Voldy ... he deduced that Harry would be at Grimmauld Place at some point because he stole the fake Horcrux with Regulus's letter in it.

_Cortez: _Yes, that was you lol. This may be a few days late, but Happy New Year.

_Windcall: _Thanks for thee review, your english is very good! I've been meaning to go back and change that French part but I haven't had time.

_MarkG: _I sincerly hope, if you read further, that Ron is in this story to provide a great deal more than comic relief. As for learning more, that will come in time. I do NOT want to rush this story.

_Slytherin Supreme: _Killed Macnair in a second? Have you ever read Harry Potter? Harry has a "whole and untarnished" soul, to quote Dumbledore, and people like that have a hard time murdering somebody when their back is turned, no matter what side they are on. Furthermore I hardly think that you can justifiably say I turned him into a pansy when he's just killed somebody. The way he deals with that in this chapter only backs up everything I have written.

_Veralidaine:_ I hope this answered all your questions!

_RainDateChick: _Yeah, I also thought that Harry needed to have killed atleast one person in battle before he duels with Voldy. But the question is I guess, when will that be ...

_The Enchanted TeaKettle: _Just wanted to say thanks for the like 22 or so reviews you have left. Lol.

_Emwonkuod: _Erm, yeah I am from Britain ... but I'm not sure if that was me!

_Mystikalolo: _Yes. She really is dead. I promise. As a dodo.

_Bohogypsy: _Oh no, please don't lose interest! But judging by the length of your review, I shouldn't think that'll happen too soon. lol.

_Mselaineous: _Hmm, don't get me started on Snape. I have many theories, each of them more unlikely than the next. Still not sure about how he shall be in this story. What do you think?

_Ruby: _I hope this chapter explained the whole Remus thing.

_Mi Ana I Numen: _Well, it wasn't a mistake. I was trying to show that Harry really could kill if he needed to ... afterall, he's gonna have to kill Voldy at some point, right? And I guess the point that I was trying to make is that he really does have that much hate in him and it could be dangerous ... and yet he can come back from it ... thus love etc and all that jazz.


	24. The Three Potentials

_**MARKED

* * *

**_

"_As I said, I only have a certain amount of information to share. _

_You are asking me the wrong questions." – Dumbledore._

_

* * *

_

**TWENTY FOUR: The Three Potentials**

Harry blinked and shook his head slightly. Surely he had been dreaming. No one else had heard. Was he going mad?

He held the card a little closer to his face, trying to see whether or not the Dumbledore in his hand looked any different to the way he usually looked on the card. He was smiling serenely, his eyes twinkling.

"Well, I have always thought of us as close, Harry, but really … this is ridiculous."

Harry gasped and dropped the card.

Ron and Hermione looked at him oddly.

"You alright, Harry?" said Ron hesitantly.

"The card … look at the card …"

Hermione slowly reached for the card, as though she feared for his sanity. "What is it?" she asked, holding it up.

"It spoke … the – Dumbledore spoke."

"But, Harry that's impossible –"

"– Good morning, Miss Granger."

Hermione yelped and dropped the card. It fell to the floor for a second time with a soft clatter.

Ron's face had gone white as he reached down and held the card up. Harry peered into it uncertainly.

"P – Professor?" he stammered, feeling surreal. How was this possible?

"Yes, it is I," said Dumbledore calmly. "However, now we seem to have established that twice in the space of ten seconds, perhaps we can proceed to better things."

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Lupin walked over very slowly, as though not daring to believe what he was hearing. It was Hermione who seemed to recover first.

"What … how is this possible?"

"As you may be aware, the portraits of the old Headmasters and Headmistresses in the office at Hogwarts are bound to give the current Headmaster or Headmistress advice as they see fit. As you may also be aware, I am currently not in my frame in the office; I am here. As I was, forgive my seeming lack of modesty, a somewhat advanced wizard, I was able to extend my advice to other forms of media, such as this admirable card. Now; another question if you please."

There was a silence as each of them tried to process this information.

"So … you're like … a portrait?" said Ron.

"Precisely."

"And … you can give us advice?"

"Once again, a succinct and well educated answer."

"Why did Snape kill you?" Harry said suddenly with flat emotion in his voice. The others turned to look at him, surprised by the suddenness of his question.

Dumbledore answered right away, which was not what Harry had expected. "I cannot answer you that question, Harry. I am not alive; this form of communication is not as though I were speaking to you through Floo Power. Portraits of those who have passed only have a certain amount of information to give. Alas, as you did so many years ago, you ask me the question to which I cannot give you an answer."

"But you remember that?" Harry pressed. "You remember me asking you why Voldemort tried to kill me when I was a baby seven years ago, but you can't tell me why Snape's a murderer?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled out of the card. "As I said, I only have a certain amount of information to share. You are asking me the wrong questions."

Harry felt like someone had kicked him in the stomach. After the initial shock, he had felt, for a few glorious moments, as though the things that had been tying his heart in knots would at last make sense; make sense, no less, from the man who had been his mentor and whom he'd thought he'd lost forever. Surely he would wake up from this delusion any minute …

"Albus … Grimmauld Place …" Lupin began.

"Yes, Remus?"

"What happened before you died … who was the Secret Keeper?"

The Dumbledore on the card appeared to not need to know why Lupin had asked him; he did not ask if there had been an attack or if there had been casualties.

"I believe that Miss Granger gave an accurate analysis of the usual protocol when situations such as the current one arise. The original Secret Keeper, myself, nominates three other potential candidates to withhold the information and if the main person killed, the three chosen hold a meeting and chose before they perform the spell."

There was a pause as Harry remembered Hermione telling him exactly this a few days ago before they had set off for Grimmauld Place.

"So … who is it, then? Who's the Secret Keeper?"

"That I do not know, Mr Weasley."

Dumbledore was speaking in the same flat tone, and it was very strange; it was as though he was there – and yet he wasn't.

"But I thought you just said –"

"– All I can tell you is who the three candidates were for the new Secret Keeper."

There was an intake of breath. They all seemed to realise very suddenly that this news would suggest that one of the three Dumbledore mentioned had turned.

"The three people I spoke with before my death were Minerva McGonagall, Nymphadora Tonks and Arthur Weasley."

- - - - -

It was some time after this surprising revelation had shook them all; after revealing the names of the chosen three, the Dumbledore in the card had simply vanished into blackness, as he had done so many times before when he had been on the card. Harry had called into the card and tapped it with his wand numerous times, but the portrait of Dumbledore did not reappear. Harry had even thrown the card across the room, though he hadn't really expected this to help.

"I don't understand …" Lupin said for what must have been the fifth time, rubbing his brow wearily while the rain beat down mercilessly on the roof. "None of these people would have betrayed us … betrayed the Order … it's unthinkable!"

"But we have to think about it," said Harry realistically, but at the same time, his head reeling in confusion.

"How else would Voldemort have found out about Headquarters?" said Hermione, her eyes wide.

"Well we can at least narrow it down to two …" said Ron. "I mean … my dad would _never_ … you _know_ he'd never."

Harry felt sick. The people Dumbledore had named were the _last_ people on earth he would have ever have expected to be moles, and yet …

"Well I can vouch for Tonks …" said Lupin. "She'd _never _either … I know her …"

"But McGonagall wouldn't either! This is _Professor McGonagall _we're talking about here! She's watched over us for years and fought with the Order from the beginning!" Hermione said shrilly. "This just doesn't make sense! Dumbledore clearly trusted these three people – there's no way _any _of them would betray us all!"

"Especially my dad," said Ron hotly, his ears reddening; always a danger sign.

"There's something wrong with this …" Harry said slowly.

"Really?" muttered Ron sarcastically. Harry ignored him.

"I don't think we should point the finger at anyone yet. We can't get distracted."

Hermione looked at him incredulously. "But Harry … whoever it is … they've turned! They could do more damage!"

There was nothing in Harry's mind that could make him think Ron's father, Mr Weasley, was a traitor. Nothing on the earth made sense if that were true. But at the same time, McGonagall, constantly present, always fighting against Voldemort, possibly the most trusted friend of Dumbledore … no, that didn't make sense either.

Harry leaned forwards slowly. "Did Tonks ever say anything to you, Remus? About being chosen as a potential Secret Keeper?"

Lupin paused and shook his head, but Hermione spoke almost immediately.

"She wouldn't be able to. It's part of the enchantment; once the original Secret Keeper, Dumbledore, chooses the three, they're all bound by magic to never speak the name of the new one, unless they were directly asked about it."

"What do you mean, directly?"

"Well … Dumbledore will have had to have had some means of the others identifying who the Secret Keeper is within the Order, so they can be protected … but that's the whole point of having a Secret Keeper – if others are asked about it, they can't say, not even if they're given Veritaserum."

"So the new Secret Keeper could have given the information to Voldemort?" Harry asked.

"Yes … but only if they chose to," said Hermione uneasily.

Harry shook his head. The overload of information was immense and too much to process.

"OK … here's what we're going to do. Remus, is Tonks supposed to be coming round anytime soon?" Harry asked, making his mind up swiftly.

Lupin raised his head slightly, coming out of a reverie.

"Yes … we had scheduled dinner tomorrow evening."

"Remus, I'm going to ask you something … don't mention any of this to her. I can't believe she's a traitor – I don't believe _any _of them are – but I don't want to start this yet …"

"But Harry, this is important …" Hermione began.

Harry cut her off. "We're going to be leaving this afternoon, Remus –" Harry began, seeing the look on Lupin's face.

"– Harry …"

"– because there's things we have to get on with … and I don't want to do it here. It's too dangerous."

He gave Ron and Hermione a significant look, and by their expressions, took it that they understood what he meant by _things they had to get on with_ as destroying the locket in a much safer location than Lupin's house.

"You know that you may put me in danger whenever you wish, Harry," said Lupin. "I am always here to help … but whatever happens, Harry – Tonks is _not _a traitor."

Harry nodded as a great sense of unease set in upon him. "I don't think any of them are."

Ron and Hermione wasted no time in packing their things, keen to be on their way now they had one of the last Horcruxes. By lunchtime, they were ready and waiting at the door.

"Thank you for all your help, Remus," Harry said as they shook hands and stood at the door underneath the window rafters, just short of the gushing November rain centimetres away.

"You never have to thank me, Harry. Do you have the card?" he asked.

Harry reached into his pocket and took out the Chocolate Frog card, still sporting Dumbledore's absent face.

"Keep it close, in case it should speak again … I feel that it has a greater part to play in this war than perhaps we are able to see just now …"

Harry and Ron shook hands with Lupin and Hermione kissed him on the cheek before they threw their cloaks over their heads to protect themselves and dashed out into the driving rain. It was with a heavy heart that Harry parted from Lupin; true, he had been angry to see his old Professor and Ginny at Grimmauld Place, but having Lupin there after Bellatrix Lestrange's death reminded him how it had once felt to have a guardian …

Before leaving, Harry, Ron and Hermione had decided upon their next move.

"We need somewhere secure where we can set about destroying this locket; somewhere where Muggles won't see or be hurt by whatever safeguards it has," Harry had said back in the house.

"Well, where can we go for that?"

Harry had given this a great deal more thought than he had let on to both Ron and Hermione, ever since they had located the locket from Grimmauld Place.

"I think a cave or something is the safest bet."

"A cave?" Ron had repeated, off both Harry and Hermione's looks.

"Well … it doesn't have to be," Harry replied. "Somewhere deserted … a cave just seemed –"

"OK, fine … just sounds a bit … _over_-creepy if you ask me."

"We just need somewhere away from everything and everyone … in case something goes wrong. Remember how much trouble we had with the last Horcruxes? I don't want to be standing among a load of Muggles on the London Underground when I try and smash it."

"Right, well where on earth are we going to find a deserted area around here?" said Hermione, scanning the roads around them full of houses and built up areas and seeing nothing but inhabited areas.

"We're not," said Harry. "But I can think of the perfect place."

"Really?"

"Remember ages ago Sirius used to hide out in that cave in the hills above Hogsmead? There's lots of countryside around there – and we know the place, too … we don't have time to go gallivanting around in random places getting lost."

Hermione nodded. "Yes … now you come to mention it, Hagrid said he used caves around there when Umbridge and those awful people in the Ministry squads were out looking for him, remember?"

Ron wore a sceptical expression. "The only thing is …" he began, when Harry looked at him questioningly, "we know a lot of people in Hogsmead … what if we ran into a teacher or something?"

"We just have to be careful," Hermione said imploringly.

"And even if we do … we told McGonagall we were leaving back at your house, Ron … she won't stop us."

A general feeling of assent settled amongst the company as they stood in silence for a few moments before they had left Lupin's house.

Now as they stood in the shade of a large beech tree at the end of Lupin's road, they looked at each other with stony expressions on their grey faces. Each of them noticed a marked difference in the other's appearance in the past few weeks; all had the same pained, slightly aged look on their visages, as though they had all grown a great deal in a very short space of time and their minds were not quite catching up with recent events.

"All Apparating?" Harry checked.

Ron and Hermione nodded, pulling their cloaks tighter about their shoulders against the wind and rain, now falling harder if at all possible.

Harry braced his shoulders, closed his eyes and focused upon the foothills of Hogsmead before stepping sharply into the horrible feeling of dark and breathless compression.

- - - - - -

Harry blinked and stumbled forwards onto cold, hard stone, causing his knees to throb painfully. He gulped in grateful mouthfuls of wonderfully cold air after feeling as though he would never breathe again during Apparition.

Ron and Hermione had come to the same sort of stop metres away from him. They had landed just beyond the gate that marked the boundaries of the town before you stepped out into the wilderness of the hills and countryside. Harry could see, if he squinted his eyes against the rain, small people moving around in the village beyond, none of them giving any indication that they had noticed three teenagers appearing out of thin air.

"Let's get out of the rain," said Hermione, as she pointed her wand at her face and muttered, _"Impervious!"_

Harry and Ron followed her, scrabbling up the hill, which was becoming increasingly muddy and slippery.

They reached a small plateau and looked down on the village below having climbed for a good ten minutes, their knees now becoming stiff.

"Is the cave close, Harry?" said Ron, crouching for a minute and panting.

"Yeah … I think that's it there," Harry replied, also out of breath, pointing to a dark hole in the cliff concealed behind a hilly mound.

They pressed on, the rain somewhat receding now and leaving the sky above them a stony, iron grey. As they rounded the mound, Harry drew his wand out in front of him and held it high for light; overshadowed by the west side of the hill, it was much darker.

The cave was pitch black, but, Harry thought with a pang, just as he remembered it. A musty, damp smell reached their nostrils as they all entered, looking shakily around them.

"Well … I suppose we shouldn't waste any time," Harry said, about to reach into his pocket and draw out the locket, but a shuffling behind him made him stop in his tracks, his heart hammering.

With Ron and Hermione still standing warily in the opening, Harry turned around very slowly and, with a stab of cold horror, realised that there was somebody already in the cave.

- - - - -

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**A/N: **OK, I know I deserve a good flaying for how long I made you all wait for this update … but I have been so busy with work! I am really REALLY sorry and I promise that I'll try and be quicker now … seeing as this story is well on it's way! I'll reply to all of you via your reviews … so please sign in so I can use the button! 

Thanks again guys … sorry again,

Rosie X X X X X X


	25. Malfoy's Burnt Bridges

_**MARKED

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"_I suppose you think this is ironic, Potter?"_

"_Incredibly."

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_

**TWENTY FIVE: Malfoy's Burnt Bridges**

It was Draco Malfoy.

Harry's right hand flew to his wand in the waist band pocket of his frayed and torn jeans, but this time, Malfoy was too quick for him. He had already pointed his wand directly at Harry and, without needing to utter an incantation, Harry's wand flew out of his hand and he was thrown against the cold and slimy wall of the back of the cave, plunged into semi-darkness.

Only dazed for a second, Harry scrambled to his feet and looked for Ron and Hermione, who were standing frozen in the hole of the entrance; Malfoy must have immobilised them before Harry had even turned around.

"You!" Harry spat in rage, scrabbling around on the rough floor for his wand.

"I don't think so, Potter!" Malfoy said in a wheezy voice and Harry found himself lifted off his feet and pressed against the wall once more, this time unable to move a muscle.

Harry felt no fear, but now looking at Malfoy from his disadvantaged point, he saw how ill he looked. Malfoy's face was grey and gaunt and drawn like an old man's around the dull eyes. Even in the relative darkness of the cave he looked ghostly pale. Despite this, he held his wand at Harry with a pained expression on his face but with his hand quite steady.

"How did you know where we were?" Harry said with contempt, though he had more pressing matters at hand.

"The Dark Lord is smarter than you, Potter." Malfoy's voice was thin and wheezy, as though it had been stretched and strained a great deal, and Harry could tell that perhaps if Malfoy had delivered that same line over a year ago, there would have been a sneer to accompany it.

"So you're in charge now, are you?" Harry said, trying to see whether or not Ron and Hermione were having any luck throwing off the curse. "Heading the troops in? Where are your pals anyway?"

Malfoy did not answer at once. "They're not – I'm alone. I don't need any back up!"

"Really?" said Harry, something occurring to him. "And why exactly are you here? To stop us? To kill us like you killed Dumbledore?"

"I didn't kill Dumbledore," Malfoy spat, his voice rising dramatically.

"Yeah, that was my point," Harry said maliciously. "You don't even know what we're doing, so how can you stop us?"

"I _do_ know …" said Malfoy slowly, but he didn't sound all that convinced, and Harry knew.

"Really … I don't think you do."

There was a split second where Harry and Malfoy looked into each other's eyes, detesting one another as equally as the other did – before Hermione cast her spell with a deafening thwack as it hit Malfoy in the back.

Harry was instantly freed of whatever spell Malfoy had hit him with, seeing as its caster was now slumped on the floor unconscious.

"Thanks," said Harry, rubbing the back of his head.

"No problem," Hermione replied, unfreezing Ron.

"How did you do that anyway?" Harry said, too used to Hermione's brilliance to even sound surprised.

"The Immobilus Jinx is based on muscle freezing magic, but it doesn't freeze your brain. I've known about using only your mind to charter certain types of magic for years now, so I chartered an energy burst through that will-power technique Moody taught us."

Ron shook his head as he massaged his arms, as though he had forgotten how to use them. "You're like a textbook with arms."

"What do we do with him now?" said Hermione rather fearfully, peering into Malfoy's slack face.

Harry did not answer.

- - - - -

It did not take Malfoy long to wake up, and when he did, he found himself bound by magical ropes at the back of the cave, the ball of light Hermione had previously conjured illuminating his ghostly face. He licked his lips in apparent nervousness, but Harry knew better.

"I suppose you think this is ironic, Potter," he said bleakly.

"Incredibly," replied Harry, nodding.

Malfoy strained at the ropes but to no avail.

"Why do you think Voldemort sent you here, Malfoy?" Harry asked quietly. "Sent you with no back up to stop something you don't even know about?"

"Because he trusts me …" Malfoy muttered, though his eyes told a different story.

Harry shook his head, eyes narrowed. "He sent you here because you messed up, didn't you?"

Malfoy glared at Harry with grey, malicious eyes and did not answer. Harry plunged on.

"Someone told tales on you, didn't they? He found out that it was Snape who killed Dumbledore, so he sent you here because he thinks I'm going to kill you."

Malfoy shook his head. "You don't know what you're talking about, Potter … standing there with Weasel and the Mudblood … you think you know everything?"

Ron made an angry movement towards Malfoy, as though he would like nothing better than to hit him, but Hermione placed a pacifying arm on his shoulder, and he fell back with a murderous glare.

Harry took a step towards Malfoy. "Do you know what you are?"

"A filthy piece of –" Ron began angrily, but Harry cut him off.

"You're a donation, Malfoy. He's given you to us, because he wants to get rid of you. You couldn't even kill who he told you to, and now he thinks you're even more of a problem because you backed out."

Malfoy looked as though he knew this was true, but his mouth appeared to be sealed shut.

"You didn't just think you could hand your notice in, did you? It's a lifetime of service or death. Didn't think about that when you were boasting about it on the train a year ago, did you? You don't even –"

"SHUT UP!" Malfoy spat with all the energy he could apparently muster. Even when he shouted, it seemed very strained. "You know _nothing, _Potter! Nothing about my life, or what _He's _doing … NOTHING! Why don't you just kill me and get it over with?"

"I really don't know," Harry said, appearing to deliberate the point.

At that moment, Malfoy seemed to sag slightly against the wall. Harry was irresistibly reminded of that awful night atop the lightening struck tower when it had been Dumbledore lying defenceless against the wall … _Malfoy_ with the wand …

"Please … if you're going to do it just … just get it over with …" he said in a much quieter, tired voice.

Harry was again jolted back to the most unpleasant memory, when Malfoy had _lowered_ his wand against Dumbledore when he gave him a second chance… the fear in his voice.

"I'm not going to kill you," Harry said.

Malfoy's head snapped up. "I don't need your damn mercy, Potter! You think I could live with that?"

Harry shook his head. "That's not my problem. If I killed you, it would make it easy for Him."

Malfoy lowered his gaze and all the breath seemed to go out of him. His silver hair was dull and lank against his forehead.

"Why didn't … _He _just kill me?"

"Because you weren't important enough," Harry said simply, turning away for a moment towards Ron and Hermione, both eying Malfoy apprehensively. "It's more punishment if you're in debt to someone you despise."

Malfoy stared back at Harry again, hating him. But Harry raised his wand and with a flick, Malfoy fell to the floor, no longer bound by the magical bonds.

"Harry … what are you doing?" Ron said.

"You're just going to let him _go_?" said Hermione incredulously.

Harry stared down at Malfoy, who for all his bravado, had not risen from the floor, but he too stared at Harry, apparently unable to believe what was happening.

"I was there you know," Harry said, watching Malfoy get gingerly to his feet, "in the tower. When Dumbledore - when Dumbledore was _murdered._"

Some colour seemed to drain from Malfoy's face, as though the memory made him sick.

"I saw what happened. I also saw you lower your wand before … before Snape came …"

"Good for you," Malfoy spat.

"That's the main reason why I'm not going to kill you."

"Oh yeah? And what's the other reason?" he sneered.

Harry surveyed him before he answered. "It's not my duty to ease your pain. You can't go back to Voldemort now, and you certainly can't go back to your mother because she's in deeper than you are … he can do his own dirty work. You've burnt your bridges."

"So you're just going to let me walk out of here?" Malfoy said sceptically.

"Not exactly."

Malfoy stared at him, as did Ron and Hermione.

Harry looked at Malfoy rather like a judge surveys a defendant before delivering their sentence. "You can go back to school. You can go to McGonagall."

Malfoy's mouth hung open for a moment before he seemed to gather himself and reply, "You're mad."

"It's been said," Harry retorted.

"They'll kill me. I'm a traitor, remember? I can't go back there!" For all his attempted bravado, there was apparent fear in Malfoy's eyes as he seemed to realise, right at that moment, that his entire future now rested ironically with the boy that he had hated for over seven years.

Harry took a breath and turned back to the person he too had despised. "The way I see it, Malfoy, you probably deserve to go to prison and rot in the cell next door to your useless father. But I'm not going to send you there – that's not my call. Dumbledore was willing to give you a second chance and maybe … maybe if you'd taken it sooner things would have been different."

Malfoy looked away, unable to hide the traces of regret lingering behind his sullen grey eyes.

"So … you can go to McGonagall. She's in charge now. It's what Dumbledore would have wanted."

"And how exactly am I going to get to Hogwarts?" he said with a hint of his old sarcasm.

Harry smirked. "We can Apparate."

"Why are you doing this?" Malfoy said faintly, still not bothering to stand upright. He looked absolutely exhausted.

"If you thank me, I will punch you in the face," said Harry curtly.

Malfoy scowled.

Harry turned to Ron and Hermione.

"Listen, I don't want to go back to school. If I see it I'll … well, you know. Ron, would you –?"

"– Yeah, course I will," he replied grimly. Ron seemed to take this as a personal mission that, particularly because of all the hardships Malfoy had caused, he would not mess it up.

"Don't stay any longer than you need to, because people might try and question you. Just tell McGonagall what's happened and come back as soon as you can."

Ron nodded.

Hermione appeared as though she were about to say something about Ron's Apparating abilities, but stopped herself at the last second.

"Be careful, Ron," she said.

Ron gave Malfoy a steely look and grabbed him roughly by the arm, dragging him up.

"Get up," he said.

"Easy, Weasel," Malfoy hissed. "I'm not a bloody doll."

Ron sneered at Malfoy as they moved out of the cave into the rising wind.

Just before Ron took Malfoy by the arm and prepared to turn into a sharp spin, Malfoy looked back at Harry questioningly.

"I heard you killed Bellatrix Lestrange," he said over the wind, his hair in his face.

Harry stopped, his hand on the wall. He had, for the first time in the last few days, forgotten about her death at his hand. At Malfoy's words however, the images came rushing back with the force of a high sped freight train.

"It was self defence," Harry said, turning around and facing Malfoy.

Malfoy gave a trace of a smirk. "I'm not judging you for murder, Potter. But seeing as you've cut me loose somewhat, I just thought I'd give you some free advice."

"Oh yeah?" Harry said tersely. "What's that?"

Malfoy moistened his lips. "That'll really piss him off."

Harry blinked. "That's not advice, that's a warning. And anyway, I think he's been pretty pissed at me since I was a year old."

Malfoy shrugged, turning his back on Harry and took Ron's arm.

"If I didn't hate you so much, I might tell you to watch your back, Potter."

And Ron turned sharply; the next second they were gone, leaving Harry and Hermione on the hilltop in the wind.

- - - - -

It had been half an hour since Ron and Malfoy's departure, and Harry and Hermione were sitting in the corner of the cave, warmed somewhat by the fire that Hermione had conjured. It cast an orangey glow over their tired faces.

Harry held the real Horcrux tightly in his hand, staring at it. He had taken it out of his pocket because it felt as though it had been burning a hole there; even though he had only laid his hands on the real one not long ago, it felt as though he had been carrying around it's mystery for a great deal longer – since, in fact, Dumbledore's demise.

"I don't understand, Harry," Hermione said for what must have been the fifth time. "You don't owe that boy anything. He made your life – _all _of our lives – hell for years. And he was pretty much the reason Dumbledore died!"

"No," Harry answered back quickly. "_Snape_ was the reason Dumbledore died. And besides, you weren't there, Hermione. You didn't see how scared he was in that tower."

"Well, of course he was scared! He was just about to commit murder!"

"But he didn't," Harry corrected her calmly. He had, almost unconsciously, given this a great deal of thought since it happened. "I don't think he was never going to."

Hermione made a sceptical noise somewhere between a huff and a snort.

Harry pulled his knees up to his chest, hugging them. "D'you remember that time in the girl's bathroom at school when I used that Sectumsepmra spell?"

Hermione glanced sideways at Harry, as though she would never forget it. Harry bypassed this quickly.

"Before we fought, he was crying. I mean, _Malfoy _was actually _crying._ Is that in character?"

"No, but –"

"I'm not excusing what he did, because he could have killed Katie and Ron for that matter … but I heard what he said in that bathroom before he saw me. He said, "If I don't do it soon, he says he'll kill me." Voldemort was pulling all the strings, forcing him."

"Everyone has a choice, Harry," said Hermione quietly. Harry knew she was referring to a great number of people threatened by Voldemort and his obsessive battle for ultimate power – Pettigrew, who had chosen to live and serve Voldemort rather than die, his parents, who had chosen to die rather than give up their son …

"I'm not going to say you did the wrong thing, Harry, because Ron and I, we're trusting you here in everything … and it wouldn't be right. It's just –"

"– I just feel that Malfoy has some part to play in this before it's over – for good or bad. I don't know."

Hermione nodded – and Ron Apparated directly on her legs.

"_Merlin, Ron!"_ she hissed, retracting her feet sharply.

"Sorry," said Ron weakly, pulling himself to his feet. "Still haven't got the hang of it."

"Did you manage to get to Hogwarts?" Hermione asked, rubbing her shins.

"Yes," Ron replied defensively. "Right outside the gates actually."

"Was there any trouble?" Harry asked Ron, twirling the locket between his fingers.

"Well … not _really …_"

"Ron?"

"Well, when we got there, I sent a Patronus up to the castle to let the person on guard know it was a friend, and I thought it would be Filch or someone. But it was –"

"Hagrid?" Harry replied, knowing why there was trouble.

"Yeah. He didn't take it well."

"What happened?" asked Hermione, her eyes wide.

"Well, Hagrid started shouting at Malfoy all sorts of – well, you know. Malfoy got his wand out and told Hagrid to get back, which didn't help. I sent up red sparks and that's when McGonagall came out."

"And it went OK from there?"

Ron nodded. "Yeah, she calmed Hagrid down … he looked scary, Harry. Still upset about Dumbledore I suppose. Anyway, she took Malfoy from there. I didn't see any of the castle," he added almost sadly.

"That was probably best," Hermione said.

"Hagrid told me to tell you to be careful," Ron added, looking at Harry, "after he'd stopped yelling of course."

Harry nodded. The thought of Hagrid at Hogwarts caused a lump in his throat and nudged him into thinking about whether it had changed much since Dumbledore's death and how many students there would be there to teach, depending on their parents' reactions.

"Right," Harry said, extinguishing the image of the Quidditch pitch, Hagrid's smoking chimney, his dormitory and the four poster beds in the Gryffindor common room.

He held the locket on the chain up to the light of the fire; it shone emerald green and the silver 'S' glowed dully.

"Let's get this over with."

From their faces, it was apparent that all three of them knew that this was the last Horcrux they would be able to attain without directly doing battle with Voldemort and it was therefore almost more vital that they destroyed it. It had also occurred to Harry that, since Voldemort most probably knew by now what they were up to, he may even begin to make new ones. The thought made Harry shiver.

"Where do we start?" Ron said.

They tried smashing it with part of the crumbling stone wall, but Harry knew, before he had even brought the rock crashing down onto the locket, that it most certainly wouldn't work. As expected, it did not even crack, but remained wholly intact, glinting innocently in the firelight.

Hermione suggested throwing it into the fire, so Harry dropped it into the conjured flames and they knelt down to watch what happened. It did not melt. It didn't even mark.

Ron levitated the locket back out of the fire and set it back on the floor.

"Well, there's nothing we can physically do to it," Harry said. "I didn't think there would be, but we had to try anyway."

Hermione shook her head. "Well, magically, there's not many possibilities; spells like Reducto are based on the physical realms anyway. It has to be magic – mental magic or something else …"

"What kind of mental magic can you do on a locket?" Ron said. "It's not like it's got a mind you can get into."

"Well, technically it has," Harry corrected. "It's Voldemort's soul – it's all connected. But I don't fancy going into his mind to be honest."

Hermione shook her head. "No … it's not even that … He's obviously protected it against physical attack – I bet it's Impervious to magic too, because both the cup and the notebook were … it's something else."

"Maybe we should try and open it," Ron suggested, looking at the silver clasp at the front. They prised and pulled, but it remained stuck fast.

And then Harry realised what was staring at them in the face. His eyes fell not on the locket, but on the chain that it resided.

"I've got to put it on," he said quietly.

"Eh?" Ron asked, not really hearing him.

"I've got to wear it. That's what it's for, isn't it? It's a locket – it's supposed to be worn."

"But, Harry …" Hermione began fearfully. "How do you know that the second you put it on, it won't kill you?"

"Because it would have to not kill Voldemort if he wanted to alter it or something like that …"

"But it might be able to tell instantly," Hermione pressed.

Harry shook his head. "No … that's not his style. There'd have to be some kind of test …"

"Harry, this is too risky!" Hermione said, clear anguish in her voice. But Harry had already reached down to the floor and scooped up the locket, examining it again. It was still warm from its last contact with the fire.

"If something happens …" Harry began, but Ron cut him off.

"You don't have to say that again," he said. "We know the score."

Harry nodded and, slowly, raised the chain above his head before bringing it down over his neck. It was exceptionally heavy. He waited a few seconds to see if anything happened, but nothing did.

"Well, that was a waste of time," he said and went to look up at Ron and Hermione – except that they were no longer in front of him. In fact, Harry was no longer standing in the cave.

- - - - -

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**A/N: **Oh ho! What do you all make of that then eh! Tell me in a review, why don't you. Sorry again for the wait – I know I was quicker than last time, but still. Anyway, I have a half term next week, so I'll get writing then when I'm not working.

Can I just ask … _please_ sign in if you're reviewing because then I can reply to you! I don't want to do it here, because they'll take my story off, but I love replying to my faithful reviewers!

Rosie

x x x


	26. Out of the Locket

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"_I am going to destroy you, Harry Potter."_

"_You know, that threat gets more frightening every time I hear it."

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**TWENTY SIX: Out of the Locket**

Harry's heart skipped several beats as he realised that he was no longer standing next to Ron and Hermione; somehow, incredibly, he had been transported somewhere without even feeling a thing. But _where _he was … he had absolutely no idea, and it filled him with a cold dread.

Blinking slightly to clear his head, he glanced around uncertainly. He stood in a forest full of tall, substantial pine trees so densely packed together that they created an opaque darkness thick enough to be midnight, yet he was certain that when he had left Ron and Hermione in the cave, it had been daytime – a dreary daytime at that – but nevertheless, a different time zone.

The smell of pine was so overpowering that Harry failed to notice the most disturbing phenomenon of the entire situation until he took a tentative step forwards – and left his body behind.

Well, it _appeared _to be his body, but it was oddly transparent and smoky. He looked down at his own legs; they appeared solid enough. He pinched himself; it hurt. Turning back to the new apparition of himself next to … himself, he reached out a hesitant hand to touch his own vaporous sleeve. His hand went straight though an oddly cold haze, which was his body, apparently in limbo. Though the more Harry stared at his ghostly doppelganger, he noticed that it appeared to be sleeping. Standing up quite straight, but sleeping. In some bizarre twist of magic, he felt sure that somehow, his essence had split when he was transported, and this did nothing to ease his mind.

Taking a deep breath and inhaling the sickly pine aroma, Harry stepped forwards once more. The ground was unsettlingly springy, due to the infinite amount of needles littering the forest floor. As he raised his head, Harry could see a dim greenish haze above his head, as though the sky itself was a dull green like the trees. Even squinting at it did not help. He moved his hand toward his pocket, feeling undeniably vulnerable, and gripped his wand in reassurance before walking onwards.

It seemed inevitable, even as he thought of it, that magic would not work in this place, wherever it was, as every place he had been previously that was linked to a Horcrux somehow rendered magic unusable. Nevertheless, Harry raised his wand above his head and whispered in a hoarse voice, "_Point me!"_

To his utter surprise, a blue arrow shot gracefully out of his wand and pointed to what must have been north. Feeling slightly relieved, Harry continued for five minutes, walking in as straighter line as he could manage; the thick winding trees made it very difficult. Before long, Harry was almost certain that the landscape did not look any different. He raised his wand and uttered the direction spell again; the arrow now pointed directly behind him, yet he was sure he had not changed his direction. What was going on?

He turned in the direction of the arrow and tried to sustain it, so he could see exactly where it was pointing. After a further five minutes, Harry was certain that he hadn't actually moved, and yet he was sweating – the arrow had gone again. Harry repeated the spell again and again, but each time the arrow changed direction.

_Don't panic …_ Harry told himself, though his breathing quickened. He turned abruptly left and began to jog. The jog swiftly turned into a sprint and Harry stumbled once or twice before finally tripping right over, but it did not hurt; the carpet of pine cushioned his fall considerably. Harry scrambled clumsily to his feet, pulling needles out of his hands and staring around once more. Nothing had changed.

Before he could stop it, panic spread through his body like poison. He could have been there for hours and not realised it … _where the hell am I?_

Harry leaned against a tree and took several deep breaths, trying to not throw up as the pine scent overwhelmed him. All of a sudden, the locket felt incredibly heavy around his neck and very warm against his chest.

_That's why I'm here,_ he thought to himself. _The locket. _

Abandoning the Point Spell, Harry raised his wand again and muttered "_Lumos," _as the darkening trees were causing visibility to become an issue. He lifted the locket over his head and held it in his hand, chain and all. They had tried _everything _possible to prize it open, both magical and physical, but it hadn't worked. However, something within Harry told him to try again. _Why, though? It's not likely to work …_ but again, almost a nagging sensation told him that it was the right thing to do …

Forgetting his fear for a moment, Harry slid his fingernails into the groove around the edge of the silver locket and pulled. In an instant, the locket snapped open, as though it had been well oiled every day since its creation. Harry peered cautiously into the opening, all of a sudden very aware that this was part of Voldemort's fragmented soul, and held it away from his face.

At first, Harry thought there was nothing in there, but then abruptly, there was an almighty rush of wind that seemed to come from within the locket itself and it blasted Harry backwards with such a force that his feet left the ground and he landed hard against a tree, striking the back of his head, winded. Stars exploded in front of his eyes and his back ached … but this did not stop him from witnessing what was happening right before his eyes …

A green smoke was unfurling from the locket metres away from him on the floor; first a thin strip of smoke, then it began to billow and expand into a large haze of an emerald-coloured cloud. Harry watched transfixed, still dazed by his most recent encounter with the pine tree which he now sat against.

The green cloud spread and obscured his vision, entering his lungs, causing him to cough and splutter when a horrible thought entered his mind as he tried to get to his feet… _what if it was poison gas? _

But then a deeper knowledge informed him that gassing an enemy was not Voldemort's style. No sooner had he thought this, the smoke began to clear in front of him and an iron fist clutched at his heart as he saw, quite clearly, that there was somebody standing in front of him, metres away.

For one heart-stopping moment, Harry thought that it was Voldemort himself … but as his eyes adjusted, he saw that it wasn't. The figure was, for a few seconds, just like the other Harry in a smoky, transparent form. But before long, it became more defined, more solid and more … human.

Dark and heavy eyebrows matched black hair and rose in a judgmental arch above sinister eyes and a prominent nose. The jaw jutted out in an angular, almost pointy sneer before thin, white lips. The slim body of the figure was robed in a floaty green cloak, fluttering in a non-existent wind as he pressed long, spindly fingers together. Harry knew, fear overriding curiosity, who this must be; he did not need an introduction.

When the figure of the tall, frightening man in front of him spoke, it was in a richly strong voice laced with scorn and strength.

"Harry Potter. I am Salazar Slytherin."

- - - - -

"Harry … _Harry!_" Hermione hissed anxiously at the still, smoky form of Harry back in the dimly lit cave. "Ron … what do we _do_?"

Ron's face was white. "I dunno … what was he thinking?"

Hermione shook her head, chewing her fingernails, her face in anguish.

"Try again," Ron said.

Hermione reached out a hand to try and touch Harry's shoulder, but it went straight through him again. She withdrew it as though she had been burned, but in truth, it was freezing cold, like a ghost.

"I don't get it," said Ron, looking dumbstruck at Hermione. "Has he gone anywhere at all?"

Hermione stared at the form of Harry. "I don't know … I _don't know_ … perhaps it's in his mind – but then why … _why _has his body gone all …"

"He can't hear us," Ron said, walking around the cave. They had established this since they both yelled at him until their throats were hoarse. "So he must have … split something … the locket must've split his essence or something."

Hermione looked at Ron. "Yes … you're right … but that's such advanced magic, I wasn't even sure it was possible."

"This is You Know Who, Hermione. _Anything _is possible … so part of him is here, but part of him is somewhere else. What does that mean?"

Hermione said nothing.

"What happens when your essence is split? Are you … OK?"

Again, Hermione was silent. It seemed she did not want to answer Ron's question for fear of voicing her own fears. Ron exhaled deeply and spoke again.

"He's on his own. We're just going to have to trust him," Ron said in a small voice. "He's not stupid … he can deal with it."

Hermione looked at Ron, her brown eyes wide and pleading, as though she really wanted to believe him.

- - - - - -

Harry couldn't even explain to himself how he had known exactly who stood before him so solidly. He couldn't explain why Slytherin was the first name that jumped to his mind when the figure had unfurled itself from the locket when the Slytherin Harry had learnt about had died many centuries ago.

"It was foretold that we would meet," Slytherin began, his voice deep and rumbling, and very much alive. "A prophecy was made when I was alive that I would meet the one to vanquish a Dark Lord."

Harry swallowed and moved slightly against the tree; his back ached very badly and his head throbbed. He had never heard of the prophecy that Slytherin was referring to.

"What … how – _how …_" Harry began, but couldn't decide which question he wanted answered first.

"You have questions I see …" Slytherin said in a low, dangerous voice.

Something stirred in Harry, and it wasn't only his previous knowledge about the serpentine founder of Hogwarts, it was the way he was eyeing Harry hungrily that made him see that this … apparition, ghost, or somehow human, was dangerous and not to be trusted.

"You wish to know where we are?" Slytherin continued, as though he had not noticed Harry's brain warning him. "We are in a representation of a forest in Albania."

"A representation?" Harry said, trying to keep his voice even and not shake.

"These trees are real," Slytherin said, touching the closest pine to him, "and _we _are real … but this place does not exist."

Harry did not try to fathom the mechanics of what had just been said; only that this was some kind of alternate universe.

"Albania?" Harry said, a memory stirring.

"Yes. The Dark Lord found it … _fitting, _seeing as he created one of his Horcruxes in a place very much like this …"

So Slytherin knew about the Horcruxes … was he a Horcrux?

"And that's why my essence has split? Because this place doesn't exist?" Harry said, trying to comprehend this impossible fact.

"Yes. Part of you remains where you were. But that does not mean you are safe there … if you are destroyed here, you die in reality. Your mind makes it real."

"And you're … you're a Horcrux?" said Harry, not sure he wanted to know the answer.

Slytherin half-smirked. "I am … a recent addition; although, one could argue that there is nothing _recent _about Salazar Slytherin. The locket is now worthless, of course," he added, gesturing carelessly behind him.

Harry's brain was working furiously. Through his ever-present terror at facing one of the greatest wizards of all time in whatever form, a certain curiosity stole over him.

"So Voldemort knew that I had the locket …and tried to make it impossible …"

Slytherin said nothing, but that constant smirk was playing around his thin pale lips and Harry didn't like it one bit.

"I believe your next question was _how._ It is true – I had never thought it possible. I am _technically _dead, but there was a similar phenomenon not long ago I am told …"

"Riddle's diary …" Harry said aloud, more to himself than to Slytherin.

"Yes … the Dark Lord informed me of the spell when it had been done. I myself, very like he, went to many lengths to make sure that my legacies were not forgotten."

Slytherin was speaking with a fierce kind of power, as though he were angry.

"Many believe that my Basilisk in the chamber was my only remnant … but I was _far_ more intelligent than that. When the one worthy came along in the form of a Dark sorcerer, I hoped that he would know what to do … the charm to invigorate the memory I preserved is very complex … few will risk it, and yet here I am."

"So why are you here?" Harry said, his voice breaking slightly. "Why are you not with him?"

"Because I only exist here, Potter. The downside to the charm … but no matter. For if my work here is successful, my legacy will continue whether I am by the Dark Lord's side or not."

It seemed very odd to hear the great Slytherin call Voldemort 'The Dark Lord' when Harry was fairly sure that Voldemort had modelled much of his behaviour and stemmed most of his ideas from the figure in front of him. Yet the way Slytherin was speaking about Voldemort was highly significant … it was almost as though Voldemort had hoodwinked this prodigy to do his bidding … therefore making him, really, the most powerful sorcerer in the world …

"And what _work_ exactly do you mean?" said Harry.

Slytherin gave a real smile this time. "Why, by preventing you from destroying this Horcrux. By destroying you, Harry Potter."

"You know, that threat gets more frightening every time I hear it," Harry retorted bravely, playing for time. He had been prepared for Slytherin saying this, but he had to keep him talking whilst he thought of a way to get out of the situation …

"What's in it for you?" he asked, his hand gripping his wand very tightly. "If you only exist here, how can you benefit?"

"I have mentioned already, Potter … I wished for my work to continue. I _began_ the whole notion of pure-bloodedness and the right to be educated. It is what split me from the other founders. The Dark Lord believes in the same concept. If he is the winner of this – _war –" _(he spat in a derisive tone as though he believed there was no such thing,) "then all those who are unworthy will be purged and eliminated and the race of wizardkind will be pure once more."

White hot anger licked at Harry's insides.

"What about half-bloods then? Half-bloods like Voldemort?" he spat at Slytherin.

Slytherin's smirk faltered for the first time. "I was informed that you were insolent. I see I am not disappointed."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, that's right. I'm insolent. Insolent enough to do this –"

Harry had been weighing up what the most effective spell would be to use against this very real, very dangerous representation of Slytherin. Knowing that he could do it, realising with every particle of his being that he could bring off spell to give him time to run and gain the upper hand, he thought, harder than ever before, consciously within his mind of the incantation.

'_Crucio!'_

Slytherin had clearly not been expecting Harry to use this curse, and so his parry was not as effective as it may have been. Nevertheless he blocked the largest blow of the curse, but was knocked off his feet. Harry turned tail and ran for it.

He did not look back, nor did he pause stop when the tree centimetres from his right arm shattered into a thousand fragments from the force of Slytherin's retaliation spell whilst he ran, flat out, hoping desperately that the landscape would change – but of course it did not.

Harry turned sharply and flew behind a thick tree, panting hard and clutching his chest. He had no idea where Slytherin was; his only hope was that the famous founder had not seen which tree he now leaned against, clutching his wand.

A voice echoed from far away.

"Does this mean you are tired of the history lesson, Harry Potter?"

Harry said nothing. Clearly he could use any magic in this place, so that was certainly a relief … but he was fighting _Salazar Slytherin _… what could he possibly do?

"You're dead already, Potter … you can have no hope against me, _or _the Dark Lord."

The voice sounded as though it was coming slightly to the right of the tree. The locket was redundant now; all he had to do was kill Slytherin …

"You do not even seek to kill me … _interesting …_"

Harry's back and head still ached. Numerous spells ran through his head like a stream of conscious thought; he tried to think of the ones that had served him best against Voldemort and the Death Eaters, and yet they all seemed so unlikely against this relic.

"I have heard of your own legend, Potter," Slytherin continued. It sounded like his voice was much closer this time, yet Harry didn't know how he could have moved so quickly when Apparition was bound to be impossible in this place.

Harry edged slightly away from the voice, trying to figure out where it had come from. Perhaps he could deprive Slytherin of his wand; then he'd have the advantage – but then what?

A twig cracked like a gunshot from Harry's right. He swerved around the tree, ears listening out for any other noise. He was sure Slytherin was closer … Harry backed away, and felt a presence directly behind him.

He swung around and found himself, inevitably, face to face with the green clad wizard.

Harry opened his mouth, out of habit more than anything else, and tried to yell, "_Expelliarmus!" _

But Slytherin parried the jinx and reacted very quickly.

"_Stupefy!"_

"_Protego!"_ Harry yelled, though he only just blocked Slytherin's spell; his adversary's wand flashed like lightening.

Harry backed away to give himself some space and to make whatever spells Slytherin used that he couldn't block less devastating.

Adrenaline took over; no conscious thought was involved now as Harry fired spell after spell at Slytherin, knowing he was about a microsecond from being vaporised. And yet, _and yet, _Slytherin had not yet shot the most Unblockable Curse of all …

"_Impedimenta!"_ Harry yelled, shooting multi-coloured jet after jet at the oncoming wizard, who was now deflecting the spells with lazy flicks of his wand without uttering a word.

Slytherin shot a spell at Harry who tried to block it with the same Shield charm he had used on countless occasions, but found it much more difficult. He was forced to wield his wand with both hands, like a sword, and found it took a great deal of strength, both physical and mental, to thrown the curse off.

No sooner had he done this, Slytherin had hit him with something else. It came so fast that Harry had not time to think and was knocked off his feet. Back still aching, Harry found once again that all the breath was knocked out on him as he landed hard, once again looking up at the green tinted sky. He tried to scramble to his feet, but it was very difficult.

Slytherin was laughing.

"Good show, Potter … good show!"

This incensed Harry more than anything Slytherin had said so far about blood or anything else … he intended to play with Harry just as Voldemort had done, like a child … like a toy.

"I wonder, are you pondering _why _I have not killed you with a single blow?"

Harry gritted his teeth and pushed himself to his feet.

"No," he spat with venom and shot a spell consisting of red sparkling light at Slytherin. It was a spell of pure anger that Harry had only managed once before when he was facing Bellatrix Lestrange, and even then he had not meant to do it.

It hit Slytherin hard in the face and he yelled. For a moment, Harry thought that he had the better of him, but then he was hit with the Cruciatus Curse.

Having felt the white-hot, all consuming stabbing pain many times before did not lessen its effect by any means. Every part of him screamed as though it were on fire; he thrashed wildly, trying to escape it, to throw it off, but there was no possible release … he was going to die of this torture …

And then it was gone, as quickly as it had come. Harry lay in the pine needles, shaking uncontrollably as he came to his senses.

"I shall tell you anyway, even if you were not wondering," Slytherin said, standing in front of him, his voice thick with the sneer associated with his House.

As Harry stared up at his attacker, he saw there was a large red welt on Slytherin's forehead from Harry's most recent spell, rising into an angry wound. Slytherin appeared not to have noticed it.

"I was curious, Harry Potter … I have heard many things concerning you, oh yes … but you and I both know that hearsay is never reliable. I wished to see myself whether or not you could fight your way out of the number of tight corners I have been informed about."

There was a flash of blinding white light, and Harry felt the world turn upside down as he was lifted into the air. Every last remaining particle of strength in him fought it; he tried desperately to repel Slytherin with his brain, to not let him achieve these non-verbal spells, but it was _so hard …_

He felt himself falling … falling from a great height; the wind whipped through his hair and the blood rushed to his head. The next thing he knew, he had landed hard on his side, thwacking his head for the second time. Slytherin was laughing again.

"But I see now, Potter, that you are not as special as you have been built up to be!"

With an enormous effort, Harry staggered to his feet, away from Slytherin … he felt shattered, like somebody had been using his body as a tennis ball. Nevertheless, if it was going to end, it would _not _be on Slytherin's terms.

_Maybe Ron and Hermione can do something, _Harry thought desperately … _maybe they can bring me back …_

But he knew, in the back of his mind, that they would not be able to, and that, as he had always known, he was completely alone.

Harry turned, dazed, and tried to shoot a non-verbal attack at Slytherin, but his brain was so tired.

Slytherin seemed to know, before Harry had even thought of using the killing curse, that he would not be able to bring it off. Somehow, this was different from his fight with Bellatrix. Now, when it really mattered, he could not do it. And Slytherin knew.

"You cannot kill one who is already dead, Potter! That spell will NOT work on me! The Dark Lord knew to make me virtually invincible! And now, as the last of your protectors is gone – the _great _Albus Dumbledore – you have no hope of vanquishing me!"

Harry thought _Levicorpus!_ as hard as he could, but only managed to think of half the spell before his brain gave up on him. He clung to a tree for support – and was thrown to the ground as it shattered when hit by the Reducto Curse; wood and pine flew everywhere.

"Now that I see, Potter, that you are nothing special, I will kill you, as I said I would. My legacy will _not _be in vain. When you are gone, this world will be at the mercy or those with the blood who _deserve it."_

_God, this is it … _Harry thought desperately. There was _nothing _he could do … he thought of Dumbledore's disappointment and how all the things he had been taught were now lost, gone to waste, pointless. He thought of Ron and Hermione and how they would perhaps never know … maybe it was better that way … but the thing that entered his mind, more strongly than anything else, was the Prophecy. _So much for my power the Dark Lord knows not, _Harry thought bitterly. He would never get the chance to face him … and it was this thought that filled him with a feeling he hadn't ever felt before. It was beyond anger, beyond strength – it was almost cathartic. Everything that Dumbledore had taught him came rushing back about the final battle and ridding the world of Voldemort.

"_Got to? Of course you've got to!"_

But not because he was marked. Because he'd never rest unless he did it.

"_I'd want him finished … and I'd want to do it."_

And he was sitting here, at somebody else's mercy? _Not bloody likely, _Harry thought savagely. If anybody was going to finish him like this, it would be Voldemort. Not Slytherin.

Harry stood up, at exactly the same time Slytherin cast his paralyzing curse to freeze Harry's body before he killed him. Harry knew what he had to do; his mind was oddly clear and somehow, he could see what Slytherin was going to use. With the words for the shield clearly formed in his mind, Harry waved his wand clearly and sharply. Slytherin's spell fell flat on its face. Harry could see the look on his opponent's face, even with his eyes closed with concentration.

Slytherin struck again, and again, Harry parried the curse. He did not know how he was doing it, only that the second time was a great deal harder than the first. It seemed like something he had to sustain; something he did not know how to keep up.

"NO, POTTER!" Slytherin yelled. "You cannot defeat _me!_"

Harry could not block the next spell; his mind was becoming hazy and less clear as Slytherin's spell penetrated his defences and Harry was flying fast through the air a long way, landing with a sickening crack on the remnants of shattered trees in the distance.

But as Harry staggered upright, away from the danger, something fell out of his pocket.

The Chocolate Frog card.

He could hear Slytherin shouting in rage behind him, boiling with anger that Harry had somehow deflected his most powerful spells. Harry threw himself behind a tree and held the card up to his face, hoping and praying that he would see the calmly lined old face, the half-moon glasses and the clear blue eyes staring back out at him.

"Harry!" the Dumbledore in the card hissed in a hurried whisper.

Harry's heart expanded to twice its usual size.

"Help me!" Harry gasped. "I can't stop him for much longer … he's too –"

"– Harry, listen to me! You _cannot kill _Salazar Slytherin, do you understand? He is already dead!"

The tree next to Harry was set ablaze as a large blue ball of fire hit it, having shot out of Slytherin's wand. He was getting closer.

"What can I do?" Harry said desperately.

"You have to Banish him!" came Dumbledore's urgent voice from out of the card. "Voldemort brought him back in a form that does not belong anywhere, not even in this place! You can send him back to death!"

"How do I do that?"

"The incantation is _Expulsum. _You have to point clearly and sharply and believe in your _own _place in this world, in this life. You are alive, Harry, he is not!"

"What if it doesn't work?" Harry panted. Slytherin was _so _much closer now … Harry could hear him running even in the soft pine. He only had seconds …

"It will … it _has _to work, because only you can do it? You see? _Only you! _Because he is Slytherin, and you are the h –"

Harry had been holding the card slightly out from behind the tree in order to get a better look at Dumbledore's face, and Slytherin had blown it clearly out of Harry's open hand. Harry withdrew his burning hand as a searing pain shot through it and the card lay smouldering metres away …

Slytherin darted forwards and fixed Harry with an enraged, piercing green glare.

"Accept your death, Potter!"

Slytherin drew back his wand, now close enough to touch.

"_AVADA KE –"_

"_EXPULSUM!" _Harry bellowed so loudly his voice cracked. He thought of nothing else except his whole and untarnished soul, his friends, his place in the world and his destiny to destroy Voldemort. Slytherin froze, mid-spell, his face full of rage.

All of a sudden there was a bang and Slytherin was engulfed in a red prism of light, binding him. Slowly his wand was prized from his long fingers and his expression changed from rage to fear.

"NO!" he screamed. "NO! I HAVE BEEN RESTORED! YOU CANNOT … you _cannot …_"

But he was growing fainter and fainter, struggling against the red light, against whatever was dragging him back into death, but he could not fight it. Harry watched as Slytherin, now grotesquely distorted, faded into the air in a red cloud. There was a high pitched scream of rage that Harry was fairly sure was not Slytherin's at all, and then he was gone.

Harry lay against one of the only intact trees left, and exhaled a breath he had been holding for what seemed like hours. He had done it – he had defeated the pale imitation of one of the greatest wizards of all time. He cupped his burnt hand to him and closed his eyes. Now to get back …

He turned and scanned the green landscape – surely the locket would take him back, but he could not see it. With the last of his remaining strength, Harry opened his mouth.

"_Accio … Accio locket!"_

For a moment, nothing happened. And then something came speeding towards him out of the emerald forest and landed with a soft thump at his feet. With an effort that seemed to drain him of all the left over energy he had, he bent down and put the chain around his neck, hoping against hope that he would be back amongst his friends –

"Harry!" came Hermione's anguished voice from the cave. He had once again been transported without realising it.

Harry did not even speak. Instead, he stumbled forwards against Hermione, who held him with surprising strength despite her surprise, and gasped as he passed out.

- - - - -

* * *

**A/N: **That took me absolutely ages to write. I sat down at my laptop one night at 7pm and did not stop until 11pm. Wow! I feel almost as bad as Harry! Anyway … what do you think? Please give me feedback people!

Can I just say – I love you guys. I had almost fifty reviews for that last chapter and it ABSOLUTELY made my day. You rock.

Just a Q to pose to you all – shall I continue with my italic snippets? They're a bit of a nuisance to come up with, but if you like them I'll keep them up. Let me know!

_Next time_ – a little R/HR … the three potentials and … ooh, is that the hook-nosed tosser we love to hate?

Rosie X


	27. A Forest of Confrontations

_**MARKED

* * *

**_

"_The Dark Lord will soon search for us."_

"_Why? So you can have your little tea-party for evil wizards only?"

* * *

_

**TWENTY SEVEN: A Forest of Confrontations**

"_Salazar Slytherin?"_

"You faced the _real _Slytherin?"

Ron and Hermione had voiced this question about ten times in the past half an hour after Harry had come around with a warm fire and some refreshingly cold water that Hermione had conjured.

"Yes," Harry said, a little exasperated. "Can we move on from that now?"

"Of course … but … I mean, _Salazar Slytherin!"_

"Hermione!"

"Sorry."

Ron chuckled and pulled a chocolate bar out of his bag, breaking it into three pieces and throwing one each at Harry and Hermione. Harry bit into the chocolate gratefully and felt warmth spreading through his body that the fire had not been able to penetrate. Since he had been back, elated though he was to see his friends alive, a chill had surrounded his heart following the confrontation with Slytherin.

"But anyway," Harry continued with his story. "It's done. The locket is gone. Well, I mean, it's not."

He held it up in the firelight; the green emerald in the centre twinkled innocently, as though it had no idea as to what it had been used for.

"But it's not a Horcrux anymore."

Harry let out a deep breath, feeling as though he were expelling with it a great weight from his heart. _They had destroyed 5 Horcruxes between them._

"Tell me more about this spell, Harry," Hermione went on, a feverishly unnatural excitement in her eyes. "You Banished him? I've only ever read about that in wizard fiction books! Even ancient lore says it's impossible!"

"Give the man a break, Hermione!" Ron said thickly through his second mouthful of chocolate.

"I've told you," Harry said wearily, but sensed that Hermione wanted to be told again. "If Dumbledore hadn't come out of that card, I'd have been a gonner. Somehow Voldemort had brought Slytherin out of death –"

"– But _how?_" Ron said.

"No idea," Harry replied truthfully. "So he couldn't literally be killed, because he had already died. But I would never have thought to use that spell. I'd never heard of it before!"

Hermione was looking ponderous. "Well, as I say, I thought it was a parable. But even in myth, Harry, it must have been an _incredibly _complex spell!"

Harry shrugged. "I didn't really think about that to be honest. Seeing as I was about a nanosecond from being eviscerated."

"You know, I'm just thinking … if it's a real spell, and no one knows to use it, would it work on Inferi?"

Hermione's eyes sparkled and Harry blinked. True, he hadn't thought about this possibility. But it made sense.

"Yeah … I don't see why not. I mean, they're dead, aren't they?" Harry replied.

"Hmm …" mumbled Hermione, lost in thought. "Yes … that spell might serve very useful in future battles."

"But you say the Card exploded?" Ron said sadly.

Harry nodded. "Well, not of its own accord mind you. Nearly lost my hand, too. But yeah, that's a bummer."

"We'll just have to go into town and buy lots of chocolate," Hermione suggested.

"Suits me," Ron said happily, still munching on the first bar.

"We should go down into town soon, you know. Get a local paper and stock up on food," Hermione said sensibly. "Me and Ron can go, Harry. You'll be recognised."

Harry nodded as they got to their feet.

"Try and get some rest. I'll put a wind barrier up on the mouth of the cave so it's warmer."

Harry waved his hand in thanks as their echoing footsteps disappeared out of the cave.

His body ached from the many places where Slytherin had flung him about when he had entered the locket, but Hermione's swelling reducing spells had limited most of the damage. There were no spells however that could combat the feeling of dread slowly creeping in on him now, as he lay in front of the fire, watching the dancing patterns.

True, it was a good thing that they had destroyed all of the currently accessible Horcruxes. But there was that nagging feeling that, sooner or later, he would have to go after the snake, which would almost definitely be with Voldemort. _How has it come this quickly?_ he thought as he rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling.

It did not seem long ago that he had heard the prophecy that dawning morning in Dumbledore's office when he knew, then, that the final meeting must come, whether it be one year or twenty. True, it had been nearly over two years since that day and yet … _and yet, _Harry did not feel ready.

_Will I ever be ready?_

Sleep rolled over him uncomfortably as this thought stayed with him. Before long, Bellatrix Lestrange's broken body was looming at him from the carpet of Grimmauld Place, only to be swiftly replaced by Slytherin's indignant expression at being destroyed. Somebody stood behind Slytherin in Harry's dream, and he saw with a surge of hatred, Severus Snape.

He wore the well known sneer, his lips curled in a mocking fashion. He was mouthing something, but Harry could not quite make it out. He moved closer.

"_You're not ready, Potter …_"

He knew Snape was mocking him, telling him that he would die, but he couldn't quite move away … he tried to thrash his arms, but he couldn't …

"_Harry!"_

Harry let Hermione's voice bring him slowly back to himself.

"Harry, wake up, it's only a dream," Ron was saying.

He sat up slowly, head spinning and saw their expressions of concern.

"We've got food, Harry. Eat something, you'll feel better."

Harry rubbed his eyes and cleared the fading images from his brain as he took a bite of a chicken sandwich and felt instantly better.

"Here," Hermione said, throwing a bag of Chocolate Frogs down in front of him. "There's bound to be one of Dumbledore somewhere amongst those."

"What were you dreaming about, Harry?" Ron asked him tentatively.

Harry looked up. "Snape."

Ron and Hermione exchanged a glance that plainly told Harry that they regarded the subject of Snape as one to be avoided. Hermione cleared her throat.

"Right, so um … how are we going to plan –"

"– He was laughing at me," Harry said in a low voice.

Ron and Hermione looked at him uncertainly.

"That … _bastard _… was laughing at me."

"Harry it was only a dream," Hermione said in a pacifying tone. "Don't let him get to you."

"Get to me?" Harry said hotly. "How much more could he _get to me _if he tried, Hermione?"

Hermione fell silent, her cheeks reddening. Harry instantly felt ashamed of himself. It was not her fault.

"I'm sorry," he muttered. "It's just I … I don't know."

Harry looked up and dimly registered that Ron and Hermione had been holding hands and were sitting awfully close together. He turned away quickly, his ears reddening.

Ron and Hermione seemed to come to themselves and let go of each other's hands very quickly. Hermione stood up and walked around the cave, but Ron came over and sat next to Harry.

"Harry, you're fight isn't with Snape, it's with Voldemort," Ron reminded him.

Harry nodded, not really hearing what they were saying, but telling himself privately that as far as he was concerned, there was certainly a battle to be had with Snape before this war was done.

- - - - -

And so the days passed and they remained in the sheltered cave, Hermione performing frequent wind barrier spells to shelter them and keeping them warm with brilliantly conjured fires. It was a good spot to be; Ron and Hermione were able to alternately go down into the village covertly and buy local newspapers and food, so they could keep up with the goings on in the world around them.

"I just don't see how it's possible," Hermione said.

She was talking, of course, about how to get to the second to last Horcrux; Nagini. It seemed as though they had exhausted every possible scenario on somehow infiltrating Voldemort's hideout, drawing the snake away from her master and destroying her, all going undetected. Every idea they came up with seemed to end in all of their imminent deaths.

"We don't even know where Voldemort has his Headquarters," Ron voiced. "Or even if there _is _a Headquarters."

Harry sighed and rubbed his sore eyes. He felt weary and frustrated, as though he were at the end of a very long jigsaw he had managed without help and there were two pieces missing.

"Harry … we can't do this last bit just the three of us," Hermione said in a small voice, as though she really didn't want to say it. "I know you've been trying to keep everyone out of danger by isolating yourself, but … but we've done really well! Five Horcruxes are gone!"

Harry looked up at her. "You think we should involve the Order," he said jadedly. It wasn't really a question; more a statement.

Ron nodded beside him. "We haven't got enough resources to find out where the snake will be … and you said yourself, Harry, now that he knows …"

"– We don't have enough time," Harry finished the sentence for him.

Harry sighed deeply. He had indeed been thinking of the shrinking possibility that they could, the three alone, do everything and defeat Voldemort and all of his followers. But now the end was nearing, the final battle drawing closer, Harry knew it would be a war. And they couldn't fight a war with only three people.

"OK," Harry said. "I'll contact Remus; find out where the Order's meeting at the moment, now they can't use Headquarters …"

And then another thought occurred to him. Who had betrayed their secret? Who had given up the whereabouts to Grimmauld Place? It _couldn't _be any of the three Dumbledore had said … something was wrong.

Harry sent scribbled a carefully thought out note to Remus on some crumpled parchment for Ron to take down to the Owlery in Hogsmead.

_Dear Remus,_

_I hope you're OK; something's come up. Don't panic, we're all alright, but for want of a less dramatic phrasing, the time's come. We have to meet (all of us, you know who I mean) and go through some things. Let me know where things are occurring these days, and we'll come to you; we're close by._

_One other thing; any info about "the 3" would be nice. _

_Best,_

_Harry._

He handed it to Ron, who sealed it with his wand.

"I expect he'll reply quickly, Harry," Hermione said. "He won't ignore a letter like that."

Ron nodded and set off once outside again. Harry hoped they would have somewhere else to go before long; living inside a cave like this was beginning to feel somewhat claustrophobic, like he was a fugitive or something.

"How are you feeling?" Hermione asked him concernedly, dragging him out of a reverie.

Harry looked at the wall of the cave, unsure how to answer. In truth, he felt many things. Fear of an impending death was perhaps the highest, but also fear of what involving the others would mean. He had known, from the very beginning, that it wasn't realistic to expect everyone to just sit back and let him handle it all on his own, and yet he was still worried for them. Harry blinked and glanced at the rocky ceiling. There was a heavy weight in his mind that had been dragging at its corners ever since he had destroyed his first Horcrux; it felt like something was draining him from the inside, but he supposed that had something to do with his prolonged contact with the evil surrounding the broken fragments of Voldemort's soul.

Finally he looked at Hermione.

"I'm fine," he answered.

- - - - -

They sat in silence for a long time, each occupied with their own thoughts. The wind had died down a great deal; there was even a scent of dried grass and sweet flowers floating through into the cave. Perhaps spring had arrived. Harry hadn't even noticed.

But before long, something brought him back to his senses with the speed of a bullet. He could hear hurried, anxious footsteps on the cliffside, but before he and Hermione had shot to their feet, Ron appeared in the archway of the cave, red-faced and very out of breath.

"Ron! What's the matter?" Harry said, hurrying forwards. As he got closer he could see that Ron had a cracked lip, bleeding down his chin.

"What happened?"

Ron was wheezing from the run, but a loud bang from behind them all answered Harry's question.

"Hogsmead's … under attack …" Ron panted. "I was … was just at the … the … and the Death Eaters … there's loads of … think Voldemort's here …"

Harry's heart went cold as though an iron fist had been clamped around it.

"Harry …" came Hermione's terrified voice from beside him.

Harry ran from the cave, blinking in the bright sunlight that he hadn't seen for days, and looked down on the village: he could see people scurrying around for cover like ants; three houses, one of them could easily have been Zonko's, were on fire, smoke billowing up into the clouds; flashes of light were everywhere, fired from the wands of many figures wearing black cloaks …

He turned to Ron and Hermione.

"Are we going to help or what?" he said.

"The Aurors will be here soon, Harry," Hermione said, but he could see that she was going to be persuaded.

"Let's go," Harry said, and they tore off down the hillside, Ron panting behind them.

- - - - -

The first thing that Harry saw when they had vaulted the style into the dirt-track of a road that was Hogsmead was a body. A man in his mid-fifties perhaps, was laying face down, blood trickling from a wound at the back of his head. Harry raised his head away from the sight and looked down the street: Death Eaters were blasting doors open with gleeful expressions on their faces; a small child was running around in terror, her face wild, her pigtails flying; one of the black figures Harry had not seen before was laughing at her.

Harry gritted his teeth and shot a Bone Breaking hex at the Death Eater. His opponent cried out, looking for the source of the hex, but the next minute crumpled, clutching his leg.

"Good shot!" said Ron.

"We need to split up," Harry said, pushing his hair back out of his eyes angrily. "Ron, go down the right street, Hermione if you go around the back, you can sneak up on those three by the apothecary. Stay close to the walls, and if you see Voldemort, for Gods Sake –"

"–We'll get out the way, don't worry," Ron assured him.

Harry nodded and set off at a run as Ron and Hermione separated themselves. As he ran down the main street, pressing himself to the wall of shops on the left, the first Death Eater saw him. It was Mulciber; one of the ones from the Ministry that night Sirius had died …

Harry didn't even give Mulciber the chance to register his surprise at seeing the Boy Who Lived; he had shot a Stunner at him before he could blink. Mulciber gasped and slumped against the wall in the shade, out of the sunlight.

Without warning, Bellatrix Lestrange shot into his mind again, and how he had killed her. This was different … let the Ministry deal with the Death Eaters …

Harry Incarcerated Mulciber, pushed the horrific images out of his mind, and ran on.

There were people running ahead … in fact, they were running _towards_ him, fleeing from something behind. A fat bald man who was sweating profusely seemed to be trying to get the other people to safety; he turned and raised a wand, only to be swiftly knocked off his feet by someone Harry could not see.

The next moment, Dolohov came around the corner, his mask askew on his gleaming face in the sun. He was laughing as the other people screamed, and a second person drew away from the crowd to fire a curse at the Death Eater, but Dolohov deflected it. A woman screamed.

Harry flung himself out from behind the shop and threw a hex at Dolohov. The wizard spun quickly and ducked; Harry's hex flew over his head in a whirl of red light. He retaliated very sharply and Harry dived to the left as the shop window shattered.

"You!" Dolohov yelled.

"Me," Harry replied and fired a Body Bind curse. Dolohov deflected it.

"You're dead, Potter! If one of us does not kill you here today, the Dark Lord shall! He's very angry, Potter!"

"_Protego!_" Harry yelled, deflecting a jet of purple light that he had been anticipating.

"He's always angry," Harry retorted, and fired his own spell.

"_Sectumsempra!_"

Dolohov's eyes widened and he crumpled against the wall, unable to block for some reason. Harry did not stay long enough to see the blood blossoming out onto the street. _It won't kill him_, Harry knew, _but he'd deserve it anyway._

And then he saw him; Voldemort was at the other end of the street, looking around at the devastation, twirling his wand between his fingers, completely at ease. He had his back partly to Harry, and had not seen him. It was the perfect opportunity to strike perhaps he could end it here … but he couldn't – where was the snake? Still he couldn't walk away from him … Harry raised his wand and started forwards –

An arm grabbed him tightly around the neck and dragged him backwards, away from Voldemort. Harry staggered, losing his footing. A low, hated voice hissed in his ear.

"_You fool!_"

A hand clamped over his mouth and Harry inhaled some sickly, alcoholic smell filling his nose and lungs … the world foggy, the screams became less and though he tried to struggle as hard as he could, he felt himself slipping away. Harry knew, even before the wizard who had hold of him spoke, that it was Severus Snape.

- - - - -

Sitting in the cave with Hermione … thinking about Voldemort … _Voldemort … the battle!_

Harry wrenched his eyes open; they felt scratchy and sore. He went to put a hand up to his head to rub his eyes, but found that he couldn't. In fact, he couldn't move anything at all, because he was tied to a tree.

Harry whipped his head around, and found that he was, in fact, surrounded by trees. He looked through the glade and could see sunlight streaming down onto the mossy floor through a gap in the trees; not far beyond that he could see the still smoking town of Hogsmead. _The wood behind the village, _he thought to himself.

"Finally, it is awake," came a sarcastic voice from directly in front of him; Harry hadn't even seen him.

Harry could not think of a single thing to say to the man in front of him. He could find no words to express how much he hated him for what he had done, what he had taken, for everything. He could find no curse foul or dark enough to punish him with; instead, he spat at the ground by Snape's feet.

Severus Snape looked different; his face, if possible, was whiter and even gaunter than it had been before. His face was deeply lined, as though he had aged a great deal in a fairly short space of time; his hair, lank and greasy as ever, was shorter, and he stood with somewhat of a stoop. Harry disregarded this and continued to glare.

"We have little time for niceties," Snape said in a raspy voice. "The Dark Lord will soon search for either one of us."

"Why?" Harry spat with venom. "So you can go and have your little tea party for evil wizards only?"

"Do not waste my time, Potter. I have only minutes for this unpleasant exchange."

Snape's eyes did not glitter with malice the way they had once done when he used to savour the pleasure of insulting Harry at school.

"You can do what you want with me," Harry said, emotion welling up inside of him as he was reminded of the night in the Lightening Struck tower, where Dumbledore was as defenceless as he was now. "But if you hurt any more of my friends, _Professor_, I'm going to bury you."

Harry had expected Snape to laugh at him; to scornfully tell him that he would do no such thing; to taunt him.

"Hence the precautions," Snape said softly, indicating to the ropes that were, by now, biting in to Harry's arms and ribs. "But I expected as much from you, Potter, seeing as you have been as transparent as glass for the past seventeen years."

Harry's blood began to boil.

"If you're going to kill me, _Snivellus_, get it over with. I can't stand looking at your face."

Snape cast an anxious glance through the trees, as though he was fearful of an interruption.

"But before you do, just tell me why. You owe me that, after everything. _Why did you kill him?"_ Harry said, his voice breaking.

A spasm flittered across Snape's face, and it gave Harry satisfaction. If Snape felt any remorse about what had happened, Harry was prepared to stretch it until the old Potions Master broke.

"That is why we are here, Potter. If you would shut your filthy mouth for a few moments, perhaps you will learn something to your advantage."

But Harry didn't want to hear Snape's excuses. He hated him now more than ever. He strained against the ropes, feeling them move, but not break.

"Why would you do anything for _my advantage?_"

Snape opened his mouth in a snarl, moving a pace forwards but Harry cut him off.

"You tried to take away everything I ever loved! You tried to get Sirius killed by the Dementors, you had Lupin sacked … you killed the only person left who could have been a parent to me! You think I want to hear _anything _you have to say?" Harry yelled, his throat hoarse.

"Pipe down, you insolent stray!" Snape said, anger pulsating out of every part of him. "You clearly wish to get yourself killed as far as you are concerned. What on earth was going through your _minute_ brain, as you went to confront the Dark Lord?"

"Well in case you haven't noticed, _Snivellus, _there's a war going on –"

"– You are _not _ready, Potter!" came Snape's ringing retort.

Harry blinked. It was as though his previous dream was replaying in his mind.

"Why did you stop me?" Harry said. "He'd have just killed me. You probably would have wanted to watch. Or not; I mean, you are a coward after all."

Snape started towards him, fury in his eyes.

"I have said it before, _Potter; _do NOT call me a coward!"

As Snape shouted at him, Harry felt himself growing hot, as though something wished to escape from him; escape from the ropes … he plunged on, willing Snape to become angrier.

"Why not? It's true! You wouldn't even fight back when you _ran away_! You couldn't face it! You're a c –"

Snape drew back his fist and hit him hard across the face with the back of his hand. Harry felt his head snap sideways and hit the side of the tree with the force. The left side of Harry's face felt big and swollen, and wet with blood from his eyebrow as it began to run down his cheek. He looked back to see Snape staring at him with rage etched over the lines of his face. And in that moment, Harry had never wanted anyone to die so much. A feeling of wrath surged through him – and the ropes snapped, as though they were made of paper.

For a moment, Snape and Harry looked at each other, only just registering what had happened. That was until Harry rammed his body against Snape, sending him backwards, and crashing into the floor. He felt around for his wand; it was lying at the foot of the tree.

Snape was getting to his feet slowly, as though he were in no hurry.

Harry fired a Stunner at Snape, who deflected it with a lazy flick of his wand, not putting any effort in. Harry waited for Snape to retaliate with something stronger, but he did not.

Disregarding this, he threw a Bone Breaking Hex at Snape.

"_Effrego!"_ Harry yelled, stabbing his wand at the air like a sword, towards Snape, but again, Snape deflected it. It was like a replay of that night last year.

"FIGHT BACK!" Harry roared, shooting another spell. This time, he thought _Petrificus Totalus _rather than saying it, knowing the incantation in his mind, and pointed his wand.

Snape ducked, and said one single word; "Better."

Harry stared at him, panting. Then, he raced at Snape, ignoring magic, wanting to strike him, to make him pay … but Snape shot an Immobilising spell at Harry, who did not react quick enough to dodge it; his brain was hurting, his face hurt and so did all of his body. For now, he could not move, and Snape came towards him.

"Now we have gotten the pathetic whining out of the way, perhaps we can get down to business. You are to consult the portrait of Albus Dumbledore in any way you can, and ask it where the Pensieve is hidden. When you discover this, go to it, and recover the memories. I will be in Hammersmith Graveyard in one week's time, alone. You will come."

Harry stared, only taking some of what Snape was saying in. _He would come? Not bloody likely. _

Snape began to walk away, but as he did so, he raised his wand above his head and gave it a casual wave. In an instant, Harry fell to the ground, the immobilising spell lifted.

He raised his head an inch or two to see Snape stalking away amongst the trees, back towards Voldemort. But as he walked, Harry heard what he said before he disappeared.

"In the meantime, Potter, do _not _seek a fight with the Dark Lord until you have destroyed that intolerable snake of his."

Harry's mouth fell open. He watched as Snape became smaller and smaller in the distance, and he did not go after him.

* * *

**A/N**I know I knowI deserve a flaying and a roasting and ... anything else? I truly am sorry, I've had a lot on my plate recently. But it took me ages to write this chapter! Hope you all enjoyed it, and the next one will be quicker, I promise, as it's Easter soon!

Don't forget to review!


	28. The Definition of a Horcrux

_**MARKED

* * *

**_

"_I wonder if they'd sing the about the prophecy so much if they knew _

_they might not have a hero to worship when it's all over."

* * *

_

**TWENTY EIGHT: The Definition of a Horcrux **

With both his head and mind spinning uncomfortably from what had just been said, Harry pushed himself off the leafy ground with both hands with a great effort, spitting out a mouthful of earth. He raised a hand gingerly to his left eyebrow, dabbing at the blood with the corner of his sleeve, and swore.

It was too much to think about … too complicated to even consider … _why had he just not died? _Snape had not attacked him at all – except for striking him across the face … _why had he not simply delivered him to Voldemort? _

Harry shook his head, as though trying to clear his ears of water, disgusted with himself for even entertaining the idea, even for a split second, that Snape may have been sincere in those moments … _you will ask the portrait where the Pensieve is hidden _… why? As Harry pondered this on the leafy floor of the wood, there was only room for one thought in his mind.

_It's a trap._

Snape must think he was really stupid.

He raised himself completely off the ground and staggered along, towards the shouts from the village beyond the wood. It was not long before he emerged from the thicket into a clearing where the road led into the burning village of Hogsmead. Figures in red robes were now scurrying about like frantic ants; _the Aurors, _Harry thought in relief. He could see Medi-witches and wizards in bright green robes levitating people on conjured stretchers, but some villagers were still wandering aimlessly alongside the shops; Zonko's and Honeydukes, with serious injuries.

"Oh, _Harry_, thank God!" came a voice from behind him. Hermione was running towards him, a spectacular bruise on her cheek, her hair more flyaway than it had been in weeks.

"We thought maybe you'd been hit … what's happened to your face?" she asked concernedly.

Harry brushed the still trickling blood off his face and looked around distractedly.

"I'm fine, really … lucky the Aurors turned up when they did … we were a bit outnumbered."

"Yes," Hermione said, staring around in turn. "It only took them minutes – somebody must've managed to raise the alarm from The Three Broomsticks– I think there were some officials stationed in there anyway."

"Have to hand it to them I suppose," Harry conceded. "They're not as useless as I thought."

Hermione nodded.

"Where's Ron?" Harry asked with a fresh wave of fear.

"He's just getting patched up by those Healers over there," she said, pointing over by an array of shattered crates outside Madame Puddifoots. Ron looked up at the exact moment Harry looked over and pulled away hurriedly from the witch with her wand, mending some kind of abrasion on his arm.

"Harry!" he said, limping towards him, and threw his arms around his neck. Harry drew back, a little surprised.

"I'm OK," he assured Ron.

"Blimey … I thought you might've … well, I won't say what I thought."

"I know what you thought," Harry conceded, nodding.

"See I told you he'd be alright, Hermione!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Go back to that Healer and get your wrist mended, Ronald Weasley!" she said in a tone so reminiscent of Mrs Weasley that it appeared Ron did not dare argue, and turned back to the Healer who wore a disapproving expression like a petulant child.

"So what happened to you?" Hermione asked again, running her hands though her hair, trying to flatten it.

Harry paused. He wasn't quite sure why he wasn't telling either of them about Snape; it was almost as though if he told them, he was committing himself to taking what Snape said at face value, and he wasn't quite ready for that. Nor was he ready for either of them to suggest that perhaps Snape was inexplicably trying to help them, for whatever reason, when it still gave him a savage pleasure to blame Snape for everything bad that had happened since.

_He murdered Dumbledore … _there could be no possible reprieve from that.

"Well … I er, got hit in the back by Dolohov. Knocked me out for a few minutes. Don't know what happened between then and now really."

"Oh Harry!" Hermione said. "You see how dangerous it is? What if you'd been seriously hurt?" she said in scandalised tones. "I _knew _we should have waited for the Aurors …"

"We won't always have that option, Hermione," Harry said seriously. "Sometimes we're going to have to fight battles on our own."

Hermione nodded seriously. "Yes, of course, you're right."

They both turned to view the scene of devastation; it seemed that the Aurors now had complete control as everywhere they looked there were red green robed figures trying to maintain order. Some were shouting '_Auguamenti' _at the fires burning in the rooftops of some of the buildings whilst the others stood guard imposingly over the four or five Death Eaters they had managed to capture. Harry noticed, without remorse, that Dolohov was surrounded by some Medi-wizards who seemed to be trying to stem the blood flow from the wounds that Harry created.

"Why are they helping them?" Hermione said bitterly, motioning to Dolohov.

Harry narrowed his eyes, but didn't tell Hermione that it had been him who had caused the damage.

"They can't give information if they're dead."

_Information like where Voldemort's Headquarters are, _Harry thought savagely. _I want to end this._

- - - - - -

People had seen them in Hogsmead, so there was hardly any point in retreating to the cave in the hillside when they could stay on the edge of the village and in any case, Harry did not think he wanted to go back to that claustrophobic cave. There was one B&B open out of the many that usually did business in the season; the only other people staying there were shop-owners and those people whose houses and businesses had been destroyed in the battle.

Everywhere Harry went, whispers followed him; true, they were somewhat dented, defeated whispers from people who had lost everything, but still they were there and by no means subtle.

"_Why is he here in the village?"_

"_Where has he been all these months?"_

"_Was it because of the attack?"_

"_Perhaps he's been trying to kill He Who Must Not Be Named, living up to the prophecy!" _

"_Is the prophecy even real?"_

Harry found that he had almost forgotten what it was like to be followed, to be stared at, to be talked about when he had spent the last few months trying to blend in with the dull and normal public. But when the third person of the day rushed up to him to shake his hand whilst he was out for a walk and tell him that they were so pleased somebody was at last going to do something to stop these 'dark and difficult times,' Harry found it all rushing back to him with the force of a high-speed train.

Over the next few days, blazing headlines appeared in the _Daily Prophet:_

_**Village Of Hogsmead Burns At The Hands Of **_

_**Guiltless Death Eaters!**_

_Yesterday afternoon, the sleepy and tranquil village of Hogsmead found itself the victim of an unprovoked and deadly attack by none other than followers of He Who Must Not Be Named. Witnesses say they saw You Know Who himself in broad daylight, causing a high alert and a serious need for caution. (For further suggestions on elementary safety, proceed to page 12.)_

_Fatalities have reached double figures and it is reported that there were many casualties. The Ministry has said that it is not only the nature of the attack that is causing so much concern, but adding further worry to the equation is the close proximity that the attack had with Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry … Cont. on page 6. _

Harry waited with baited breath for a huge headline announcing his presence in Hogsmead, but it seemed that Scrimgeour had kept his word; no story came out about Harry and neither was he mentioned, not once, in the write up of the attack. It was sure to get out sooner or later however; some of the Death Eaters besides the ones captured were bound to have seen him and would doubtlessly carry this back to Voldemort.

"Didn't think he'd keep it quiet, you know," Ron said over breakfast two days later. "I mean … it's almost as though he really does think you're the last hope."

"Thanks, Ron," said Harry sarcastically as the landlady came over with a tray of tea. She put it down in front of them, but bent down towards Harry's ear and spoke in a staged whisper:

"I put an extra sugar lump in your tea, Mr Potter," she said in an Irish accent.

Harry smiled at her weakly. This was getting ridiculous.

"I have to get out of here," he said in an undertone as she toddled away. "I hate it. All this responsibility –"

"– don't let it get to you, Harry. All you have to think about is what _you _need to do. Not what _they _want you to do."

"I wonder if they'd sing the about the prophecy so much if they knew they might not have a hero to worship when it's all over –"

"– don't say that," muttered Ron darkly, dropping his toast.

Harry was about to open his mouth again when the landlady's shuffling footsteps were heard from behind. Harry quickly closed his mouth and looked around – _we shouldn't be discussing this here. _

"Mr Potter … I'm so sorry I forgot!" she said in a high, trembling voice. "This came for you early this morning; the brown owl nipped my finger …"

She held out a letter in her hand and Harry took it.

"Thank you."

"It seems to be 'specially sealed … couldn't say why!" she said, and turned to leave again.

Harry stared down at the letter and went to open it with his nails, but it wouldn't open. He pulled and pulled, but the paper envelope would not budge.

"Here, try this," Ron said, raising his wand. A small jet of steam shot out of his wand and covered the letter. Again, Harry tried to open it, but it wouldn't dislodge.

"I don't get it," Harry said. "This must be from Lupin but –"

"– Harry, try placing your hand over the front of the envelope."

Harry turned the letter over and placed his palm down on the paper. Nothing happened for a moment, but then, a green light seemed to glow through his fingers and the envelope snapped open, almost as though he had punched in the correct access codes.

"How did you know how to do that?" said Ron, looking at Hermione.

"Palm Letters; they use them at the Ministry sometimes so that if they get intercepted and try getting opened, they self combust. I read about it."

Ron smiled at Hermione.

"What's it say then?" he prompted.

Harry held the letter up to the light of the window.

_Harry,_

_First off, I sincerely hope that you all continue to be well, following the Hogsmead attack. That news has hit everyone hard here at the Order, and I pray that you all remained unhurt. _

_I received your last letter and wrote back almost immediately. We need to talk; I don't quite understand what you meant when you said the time had come, but I can divulge where you need to go for that conversation to happen._

_This is a Palm Sealed letter – only you can open it, therefore:_

_7 Cross Tree Av. _

_Birchwood Way_

_London_

_Hurry along, I am anxious to hear what news you have. As for the other thing you mentioned; not in this letter._

_Best, Remus. _

"So when do we go then?" Hermione asked, putting down her cup of tea.

Harry thought hard, tracing a hand over the cut on his eyebrow that he had half-healed. He felt for something in his pocket, whilst he thought of what to say to her; in it was a Chocolate Frog card that he had found amongst the hundreds they had bought before the Hogsmead attack and he had found one of Dumbledore. He had five days to decide what to do about Snape – plenty of time.

"Now. We're leaving now."

- - - - -

The landlady of the B&B showed all signs of not wanting Harry to leave when they asked her if they could use her fire place to Floo.

"Don't you see … you've given everyone hope, Mr Potter!"

Harry smiled falsely. "Yeah, I'm sure."

"Is it true? Are you really going to save us all from these terrible times?" she added dramatically.

Harry motioned for Ron and Hermione to move ahead of him into the fireplace.

"Thank you for putting us up, Mrs Smythe. We really appreciate it."

"No trouble, my love, but –"

"– We'll be seeing you."

She looked at them sadly and left the room, shutting the door with a soft snap. Ron stifled a snort.

"Blimey, can you say batty old cow?"

Harry shook his head. "She was just scared, Ron. Everybody's scared now."

Without going into exactly what this meant and what implications it had, Harry strode into the fireplace, took a handful of Floo powder and said very clearly, "Seven Cross Tree Avenue, London!"

He felt immense heat surround him only to be replaced by a spinning sickness; he would never get used to the sensation of travelling by Floo Powder. As a green swimming haze whirled around him, Harry shut his eyes tightly and was sure to keep his elbows tucked in. Then, as suddenly as it had begun, it stopped and he lost his balance slightly.

He straightened up and dusted the ash off of the front of his jumper. He glimpsed a high ceiling above what appeared to be an elaborate kitchen when a low, rumbling voice he thought he recognised came from behind him.

"Welcome, Harry."

Harry turned towards the voice and saw the dark and impressive form of Kingsley Shacklebolt standing in front of a chrome-coloured cooker, a big smile on his kind face. He still donned the gold earring form his left ear but had since acquired some stubble on his chin.

"Kingsley!" Harry said. "Where are we?"

Kingsley took a long stride forwards, seeming to cross the entire room with one stride, and shook Harry's hand in welcome.

"My house; new Headquarters," he explained. "It's good to see you, boy. Many of us have been extremely worried, you know, especially –"

"_HARRY!"_ came a shriek from the doorway and Molly Weasley hurtled towards them with surprising speed.

Kingsley stepped back, still beaming and allowed Mrs Weasley to throw her arms around Harry and pull him to her in a bone-crushing hug. Harry couldn't help laughing as he struggled to breath, but was startled as Mrs Weasley's initial shriek was replaced with a real scream as Ron and Hermione materialised in the fireplace, coughing.

"OH! _Oh, oh!"_ she said, unable to contain herself, and threw herself onto her youngest son.

Ron crumpled against the wall, looking a little shocked, but returned the hug in full force as he recovered.

"I thought … I thought … Oh, RON!" she cried, tears splashing from her eyes.

"Mum, it's alright!" Ron spluttered, as Mrs Weasley rounded on Hermione who was also submitted to many wet kisses and tight embraces.

"What's all this noise - ?" came a voice from the doorway, and Harry turned in time to see Mr Weasley and the twins standing framed, their previously grim expressions cracking only to be taken over by true smiles.

Harry laughed out loud; he couldn't help it, and for a few glorious moments he forgot all about Snape, all about betrayal, all about Voldemort and the prophecy, and waited for more shrieks of happiness to come through the kitchen door as more people heard their arrival.

- - - - -

Kingsley, it transpired, had been left a tidy sum of money by his late grandmother; his only remaining relative. Thus, he had inherited the house they now held Order meetings in and added a considerable amount of gold to his account at Gringotts.

Lupin, upon greeting Harry, Ron and Hermione enthusiastically when he arrived that afternoon, gave them all a tour of the house with Kingsley's happy approval.

The house had three floors and was situated at the very end of a posh street in West London and was, as Grimmauld Place had been before it, Unplottable and had many Muggle repelling charms on it. It was grand to say the least; there was a vast drawing room with high windows and long red velvet curtains that although still held a feeling of 'old lady' about them were all the same impressive to look at. The kitchen, the first room they had seen, was possibly the most modern as Kingsley had redecorated in the previous months. There was a large dining room with a long mahogany table where it became apparent all the main meetings were held, and a lounge leading through with plush armchairs. Upstairs there were too many rooms to count, but all were a decent size and had double beds.

"You three can stay here of course," Kingsley had said in his deep voice, "as long as you like. S'not like I haven't got enough room!"

"That's really nice of you, Kingsley, but –"

"– No 'buts' about it, Potter. I can see from your face you've had a fairly trying time, and you look like you could do with a few decent nights sleep. Lupin said we all needed to talk, and this is where it's all happening."

Harry opened his mouth, but decided it would be churlish to spurn Kingsley's offer, now it had become clear that he and the Order would need to work together if things were to progress. Also, the thought of a soft double bed waiting for him was a blissful idea, having slept on the cold hard floor of a cave for several days.

"Thanks Kingsley."

That evening, they had the first meeting in the elaborate dining room after a sumptuous dinner that Mrs Weasley had prepared. Harry had never seen so many people around one table before; there was at least thirty of them sat in the room, all with goblets of wine and the like.

Many of them he knew; there was Elphias Dodge, who had given a little leap of excitement when he had been introduced to Harry for the second time; Hestia Jones who shook his hand politely; Moody, who of course he knew well, his magical eye whirring around like a spinning top; Lupin and Tonks, hand in hand under the table Harry duly noted; all of Ron's family including Fleur, who was noticeably subdued compared to their last meeting, but many of them Harry did not know. He supposed that this was a good thing, seeing as it must mean they were new recruits. Against his better will and cursing himself for even doing it, Harry had looked around for Ginny amongst the company on more than one occasion, but she was not there.

Moody cleared his throat at the head of the table, and the chatter died down. He stood up with noticeable difficulty; his wooden leg shuddering underneath him and his chair scraped on the tiled floor.

"Ahem … well, welcome everybody. I shall be heading this meeting this evening, as since Albus … well, there is no named leader since his death, but I was elected to chair for now."

There were murmurs of 'here, here!' from around the table, especially Fred and George. Moody raised his gnarled hands in thanks.

"Well, firstly let's welcome Potter and his friends back to the table."

There were louder murmurings this time of approval, and Harry felt his face reddening as Mrs Weasley beamed at him.

"I have a few pieces of information to give;" Moody began. "First off is that we have a confirmed list of fatalities in Hogsmead obtained from the Ministry by our good Kingsley here," he said, indicating to Kingsley, who lowered his goblet.

"Twelve deaths and thirty-four injuries. I shouldn't need to say that the fact that the Dark Lord showed himself in blatant public means that we are reaching a turning point in this war."

"Do we have any information on the Death Eaters, Alistor?" came Charlie's voice from the right hand side of the table.

"In an Auror report from Jones;" again, Moody raised his glass to Hestia Jones who turned pink, "they reported there were fifteen Death Eaters in the village. Seven were captured, but a little reconnaissance done by yours truly showed that there were very few big names in captivity, with the exception of Dolohov."

Harry's stomach tightened painfully.

"This means, as I'm sure you can all figure out, that Voldemort is sacrificing all the dumb lackeys he's got. He doesn't care about losing them because he's got more of them at HQ …"

Moody said something else that Harry, lost in his own thoughts, did not hear. He remembered thinking exactly this a while ago, when Avery had been caught in central London.

"… so in my opinion, we need to go on the offensive. We've been collecting nuggets of information for over a year, and all we've been able to do is lose our people in the process."

"That's not fair, Mad-Eye," came a harsh American voice from the far end of the table. "We've suffered losses, sure, but what about the scum in custody? That's gotta count for something!"

"It counts for very little, Parsons. There'll be hundreds more Death Eaters waiting to take their places – "

"– which is why we should perhaps exercise caution rather than a 'charge of the light brigade' attitude," Mr Weasley said.

Harry felt he privately agreed with Moody, but did not say anything, until Lupin's voice came from his left.

"What do you think, Harry?"

Harry stared at Lupin and felt the eyes of everyone in the room on him, including Ron and Hermione.

"Don't ask him that, Remus, it's not fair," Mrs Weasley said.

Harry cleared his throat and did not look at Mrs Weasley. "I think we need more information," he said in such a steady voice that even he was surprised. "Like where Voldemort's Headquarters are, and then I … I think we need to make some kind of move."

"What about the Ministry?" said a witch at the other end of the table with a deep tan and an oriental accent. "Sure, Scrimgeour isn't fighting us as much as Fudge did, but –"

"– Scrimgeour won't give you any trouble," Harry replied with such conviction that many people stared at him or frowned.

"Harry, what –" Mr Weasley began, but Harry cut him off.

"– look, a lot's happened since I left. The _Prophet _isn't printing anything about me anymore, and the Aurors are more likely to help us then get in our way. Scrimgeour knows the situation now."

"And what situation is that exactly, boy?" Moody said in a low but curious voice.

"It's just …" Harry stopped.

"Hell, we should just storm the place once we know where it is, and go for this damn Lord ourselves!" said the American wizard.

"You can't."

Harry said this so sharply that every face in the room was looking at him avidly. Hermione put a hand on his knee, and it was at that point that Harry realised he needed to share what had been going on, despite the fact that both Tonks and Arthur Weasley were there. He realised then that he had not prepared for this moment because, in all honesty, he had not expected to get this far. True, Dumbledore had told him to keep to himself what happened, but Dumbledore was not here anymore.

"You can't go after Voldemort. Nobody else can."

There was a beat, and then Moody snorted. "Look sonny, I know you're worried about us all, but how else do you expect us to –"

"– you're not listening to what I'm saying," Harry said wearily. "Nobody _else _can."

Fleur's face was white and she let go of Bill's scarred hands and put her own on the table.

"You mean –" somebody began.

"The _Prophet_ has got the prophecy right, more or less. Nobody _else _has got a chance of killing Voldemort, especially right at this moment."

There were intakes of breath around the room, but Harry had expected this. His head felt oddly clear and calm.

"Even I can't kill him yet."

He paused, wondering how to not tell them about the Horcruxes, but it seemed that he had no choice. How else were they going to help him if they didn't understand? How else could they win?

"Before Dumbledore … died, I found out a lot about Voldemort. True, it's a lot that I should have known right from the beginning, but things didn't work out that way."

Lupin lowered his head slightly, as though thinking about Dumbledore caused him great pain.

Harry paused in his speech, unsure of how to best phrase what he had to tell them next.

"Who in this room knows what a Horcrux is?"

The reaction was mixed. There were a couple sharp hisses Harry often associated with people's reactions when they heard the name 'Voldemort', whereas the vast majority of the company simply looked puzzled.

Moody had not reacted with a sudden jump. Instead, he looked up at Harry with fear in his one remaining eye; something that Harry had not seen before and it alarmed him.

"He … he _hasn't _gone and … god no, that's impossible."

"_What _is a Horcrux?" Lupin said, as nonplussed as the wizard sitting next to him.

"I've heard that term before," said Kingsley in his low voice. "Something to do with the soul, isn't it? But how do you know about that? It's a banned subject at Hogwarts; Albus saw to that many years ago."

"I found out from Professor Slughorn the other year, in a memory."

It seemed no one cared how Horace Slughorn had known about Horcruxes; they appeared more interested in what they actually were and why they were causing so much upset.

"A Horcrux is the word used for an object where someone has encased part of their soul." Even as he said it, Harry recalled the words perfectly from that memory of Slughorn's he had witnessed in Dumbledore's Pensieve. That day, everything had changed.

"Part of their soul?" repeated Hestia Jones.

"Yes. The soul is split and part of it's hidden within something called a Horcrux. The soul is supposed to stay whole and intact; but Voldemort's isn't. The only way you can do it is by the most evil act: murder. The killer uses the evil power from this to their advantage; with the soul ripped, there's a spell, only I don't know what it is, but they hide it in a Horcrux. So then, because they're got part of their soul stashed somewhere secret, even if they're hurt, in theory –"

"– they can't be killed," Fred finished in a hushed, trembling voice.

Harry nodded. People were looking at him disbelievingly.

Moody was shaking his head gravely. "By Merlin," he muttered. "The evil …"

"So … have we got to find this … this Horcrux, then?" Mrs Weasley said in a very high pitched voice.

Harry shook his head. The worst of the news was yet to come.

"Voldemort's made seven Horcruxes."

The company gasped as one.

"_Seven!"_

Harry nodded. He'd had a whole year to get used to this revelation, whereas some of these people did not even know what a Horcrux was, and so he could understand their reactions.

"How on _earth_ are we going to - ?"

"I've destroyed four."

One of the loudest silences ever followed this pronunciation. Some people stared shamelessly, their jaws positively hanging open. Mrs Weasley put a trembling hand to her mouth, her eyes filling with tears. Remus simply gazed at Harry intently.

"That's to say, _we've _destroyed four," Harry said, looking at Ron and Hermione, who rearranged their faces into expressions of modesty, trying hard not to look too pleased with themselves. _They shouldn't be modest,_ Harry thought to himself. _They're my bloody heroes. _

"Potter, did you just say - ?" Moody started, but Harry cut him off, determined to get all of it out.

"Dumbledore destroyed one, which makes five. The last part of Voldemort's soul is in himself, so there's one more, and we think we know what it is. The only thing is – he _can't _be killed unless we've destroyed _all _of the Horcruxes. Then he can die."

It was only then Harry realised his knees were trembling.

Nobody seemed to really know what to say. Goblets remained untouched and half the Order members' eyes were still as wide as galleons.

When after a whole minute, no one had broken the silence, Hermione cleared her throat.

"Well, we er … just thought you ought to know."

"That's what you've been doing?" Lupin said in a hoarse voice. "All this time, you've been doing that?"

"Yes."

"Merlin's Beard."

"There's one problem," Ron interjected. People turned their attention to him, and some looked incredulous.

"Oh, you see a problem now?" Tonks said sarcastically.

Ron ignored her. "We think – or, Harry thinks – that Voldemort knows what we've been doing. There was something in the _Prophet _before we went to see Scrimgeour –"

"– _you went to see Scrimgeour?" _

"– and Harry sensed something, like he knew. So we don't have much time. He might be making a new Horcrux as we speak."

Harry was beginning to get a little annoyed at the unchanging stunned expressions of the Order. True, it was a lot to take in, but it had taken a great deal to tell them all this, and the least they could do was come to their bloody senses, he thought.

Finally Moody stood up again, brushing his robes.

"Well … Potter, that's … that's a lot of information to receive in three minutes."

There was an outbreak of nervous laughter.

"Look," Harry said. "I know it's a lot to take in, but we need to pull together now. Dumbledore's gone, and he was the last person Voldemort was ever really afraid of, so now we've got to be stronger. The first thing we need to do is to find out where the Head Quarters are."

"And how exactly do you propose we do that?" said Elphias Dodge, his eyes no longer sparkling with the same feverish excitement.

"I've always said we should interrogate some of the Death Eaters the Ministry's got," said the American wizard, not looking up from the table.

"In that case, we need the Ministry completely on our side," said Mr Weasley, his face grey, his eyes tired. Some of the company nodded solemnly. "But I'm not sure how we should go about that."

"What do you think, Harry?" said Lupin for a second time.

"I don't think what I've just told you all should leave this room, ever. I only told everyone here because you needed to know _why _we go in the direction we're going next. If the Ministry finds out, or worse, Scrimgeour, you can't guarantee that it won't get out, via the _Prophet, _or a leak inside, or anything. And if the whole public knew about Horcruxes, we'd be screwed."

There were many nods around the room. Harry was very aware of the fact that they were still all looking to him; looking to him to decide what the best course of action was.

"Maybe I shouldn't be the one planning this," he said quietly.

"Just say what you think and we'll come up with something," Lupin said. "You've got the most right here than anyone to show the way."

"We need the Aurors on our side," Harry said firmly. "I can see we've got more people in here, which is great," he added, "but it's not enough. Judging by what's been going on, I'd say Voldemort's got at least five times more wizard-power than we have. If we get the Ministry, we'll be more or less even."

"Let's not forget Hogwarts," somebody said from the shadows and Harry felt a nostalgic pang. He moved his head slightly and saw a thin faced wizard with spiky hair. He bowed his head to Harry and raised his glass. "My name is Pentagon, Mr Potter, and I'm an ex-Auror."

Harry half smiled at the new face.

"As I was saying – we've got a good ten more or so people stationed up at Hogwarts right now who aren't here. They'd do some damage in a battle, for sure."

Moody nodded. "Quite right, quite right. Am I right in thinking that Hagrid has gone to Belarus with Maxime and his brother?"

Harry stared at Moody, and so did Ron and Hermione. "What?" they chorused together.

"After the failure over two years ago, they've gone to a different country where there was reported giant activity," said Charlie, rubbing his eyes. "Who knows; with Grawp with them, it might be different this time."

"So we've got potential help from the giants," Mr Weasley confirmed, "which is something, I suppose."

"Right," Moody said a little loudly, for some mutterings had broken out. "Do we have a plan, then? We travel to the Ministry tomorrow and see Scrimgeour and see about joining forces."

"He won't just do it that easily," Harry said. "I know I went to see him, but he likes to be in charge. Don't make it sound like we're the leaders and he's got to follow. We could use him."

There was a murmur of general assent, and Mr Weasley said, "He was a good Head of the Auror Division in his day."

"We shouldn't tell him too much about the Order," Kingsley said. "We should just say that we've put a group together determined to fight against Voldemort, and Potter's involved."

"That ought to do it," Moody growled. "Other Aurors currently at the Ministry – raise your hands."

Kingsley's hand went up, as did Tonks' and Hestia Jones' and five or six others in the room Harry recognised by face only.

"Good … well, if you come along and vouch for them, he can't claim you've all been Confunded."

"Right, well then I think that's all the business we have here tonight, if Potter's got nothing else to add?"

Harry shook his head.

"Well then, in that case, meeting concluded."

There was a great shuffling of papers and Harry went to rise from his chair when a voice from next to Lupin said, "Just a minute, Alistor."

Tonks rose from her chair, pink spots on her cheeks. Harry knew what this was about before she even opened her mouth.

"I'm sure everyone is aware of what happened at Grimmauld Place last month?"

A rustling shiver travelled around the table like a Chinese whisper. It was something that Harry knew he would _never _forget.

"The attack can only have happened because the elected Secret Keeper gave up the location of old Head Quarters to someone on You Know Who's side."

Harry said nothing, but felt Ron's eyes next to him blazing directly into his fathers'. Mr Weasley's hands were gripping the sides of his chair so tightly that his knuckles were white. Harry braced himself; was there about to be an earth-shattering confession?

"I take no … no pleasure whatsoever in this," she said, her voice shaking a little, and Harry saw tears glistening in the corners on her eyes. Lupin reached up and took her hand in his. "Because of the severity of … of the breach, we've, well – _I've _done a bit of an investigation. Albus chose three potentials, as we knew he would do if ever … if ever he died, and one of them … one of them has betrayed us."

Harry chanced the smallest of glances as Mr Weasley. He was not looking at anyone but staring fixedly at the table. The room was extremely tense.

"It's only recently that this has all been discovered, and I didn't – _we didn't – _want to say anything until we were _absolutely _sure that … what I found out I … I didn't believe at first, but it's true – it's _got _to be true because …"

"Just say tell them, Tonks," said Mr Weasley sharply.

Dread flooded into the pit of Harry's stomach. If Mr Weasley and Tonks were the '_we_' that Tonks was referring to, then it could only mean one thing; that the traitor was –

"The person … who betrayed the whereabouts of Grimmauld Place was Minerva McGonagall."

There was instant uproar. Several people stood up. One even shouted "_Never!_" People were shouting loudly over what Tonks was trying to say; Harry himself stood up, feeling as though some action was needed to stop the fear and betrayal from bursting out of him. Hermione had her hand over her mouth, tears threatening to fall from her eyes but Ron simply closed his eyes.

"_SILENCO_!" Moody roared and stabbed his wand at the air violently. There was instant silence.

"We will talk about this in a _calm _manner! Now can everyone do that?"

Nobody nodded, but they couldn't speak of course.

"Good," Moody said irritably, and removed the spell. There was still shocked muttering but nowhere near the magnitude of disbelief as there had been seconds before.

"Arthur … how did … _what's going on_?" Mrs Weasley said weakly looking at her husband.

Mr Weasley looked gravely around the company and sighed deeply.

"Tonks, McGonagall and I were the three potentials. As soon as it happened, Tonks and I called a meeting between the three of us, but Minerva didn't come. We thought what this might mean, but we didn't jump to conclusions. It was then we decided we should do some sort of investigation between us. What with Tonks stationed at the school on alternate days, it was fitting she investigated somewhat. What we found incriminated the Headmistress."

"And you're sure about this, Arthur?" Moody asked seriously.

Mr Weasley looked at Tonks.

"We thought there must be some sort of mistake … that You Know Who found out some other way … but Tonks retrieved a memory from the new Pensieve in Dumbledore's old office – it told us everything. I'm more than happy to present the Order with it this instant if needs be."

"I rather think you'd better," said Moody in a very low voice.

"I can't believe it," said Lupin. "I really … I can't …"

"Look at the memory, Remus," said Mr Weasley sadly.

Harry stood up; he did not want to watch the memory, nor did he want to sit and see everyone's expressions of disbelief and shock. He did not want to find out in the most brutal way that the teacher he had trusted with his life for seven years, the person who had been one of Dumbledore's closest friends, was in fact working for Voldemort.

"I don't want to see it," Harry said, moving towards the door. "I'll see you all in the morning," and shut the door with a snap. Ron and Hermione did not follow him.

- - - - -

Kingsley had said that he and Ron would be sharing a room with Hermione next door, if that was OK. Harry had told him it would be fine, but now he wished he hadn't. He wanted to think about everything that had just happened in complete privacy.

He lay on his side, staring at the wall, having been awake for hours, and still Ron and Hermione had not been up. How was it possible? McGonagall had _always_ without fail done everything in her power to aid Dumbledore, to help Harry … she had been in the Order! What on earth could have prompted her to betray everyone and nearly get them all killed? It was a complete mystery, and yet Harry did not want to know any more than he had done three hours ago.

The door opened with a soft creak. Harry pretended he was asleep and shut his eyes tightly. He could sense that both Ron and Hermione were standing in the doorway, even though Hermione was supposed to be next door. He guessed that they wanted to talk; but he really wasn't in the mood.

"I think he's asleep," he heard Ron's whisper carry through the darkness. "Wonder why he didn't want to see the memory?"

"The same reason I'm wishing I hadn't seen it now, I suppose," Hermione said.

Harry heard the creak of a mattress and realised that Hermione must have sat down on the edge of Ron's bed. It was a very large room and their beds were at opposite ends, but Harry could still hear them, despite their whispers.

"Why?" Ron asked, perplexed.

"Because …" Hermione seemed to struggle. "It was hard to watch. I mean, there's the evidence, right in front of us. She went right up to that Death Eater and told them what she knew, even though she knew what it would mean … we saw it with our own eyes."

There was a silence. Harry too contemplated her words. So McGonagall had approached _them …_

"It's upsetting enough for us as it us, but for Harry … it can't be easy. He's been through a lot with McGonagall."

"I s'pose," Ron said. "I think we did the right thing today, though, telling them all. It was the best thing to do."

"Yes," Hermione answered. "I think so too."

"Well of course you do," said Ron, and Harry thought he could envision a trace of a smirk on Ron's face. "Because we've both got great minds, and we think alike."

Hermione snorted softly. "Oh, yes. Great minds."

"You have, you know," Ron said softly. "I don't say it often enough to you, really."

Harry frowned into his pillow. _Here? They were going to do this here?_

"You don't have to say that to me," Hermione said quietly. Harry had the distinct impression that she was not looking at Ron as she said this.

"Yeah, I do," Ron said. "Because I think it. I think a lot of you."

Harry was beginning to wish for nothing more than sleep to roll over him so he could not hear them.

"What do you think of me, Ron?" Hermione said. Harry knew she was looking at Ron now. He could almost feel Ron turn red.

"You know what I think."

"Yes, I think I do, but I want you to say it."

There was a moment's pause. As much as Harry wished he were not there, he was also mentally screaming at Ron to get the hell on with it and get it over with. _Just tell her, you prat._

"I … well, you know."

"No, Ron, I don't. Tell me."

Ron gave an audible sigh. "I like you, Hermione. OK? Happy now? I really, really like you."

Harry tried not to grin. _About bloody time._

"Well that's just as well," said Hermione in an oddly business-like tone.

"Why's that?"

"Because I like you too."

_Good on you. Just don't bloody well start snogging with me in the room._

Despite everything that had happened in the last five hours, Harry savoured the feeling of happiness for a few moments. The immense feeling of deep sadness and treachery ebbed away ever so slightly because Ron and Hermione had finally said what they needed to say. It was surreal, and slightly ironic, that in the midst of all this depravity, happiness could still exist.

- - - - -

Harry did not know what it was that caused him to wake up with such a sudden start. He thought perhaps it was Ron's snoring, but then again he had lived with that for years. He raised himself slowly out of bed and glanced at his watch in the moonlight; 4:55 a.m. Everyone was sure to be in bed.

Passing Ron as he crossed the room (who was thankfully sleeping alone), he opened the door silently and stepped onto the landing. A nice hot drink seemed in order, so he could sit and think about everything with no one asking him how he was feeling, or what he made of it all.

But no sooner had he descended the stairs and made his way towards the kitchen, he heard the front door open. Harry froze where he stood: who was taking an exceptionally early morning walk?

He raised his wand to chest height and moved out of the kitchen again. The front door closed with a very quiet 'click', but not before Harry had seen the bubble-gum pink hair of Nymphadora Tonks disappearing out of it.

- - - - -

* * *

**A/N: **My longest chapter yet! Sorry if it dragged on but I wanted to get all of that out in ONE chapter, as it's been planned for so long. Anyway … who's confused now! Tell me what you think please and review! 

_Next chappie – allegations fly and Harry takes a trip down memory lane (see what I did there)?_


	29. Turning Points

_**

* * *

**_

MARKED

"_This war … it brings out the best in some people; _

_the worst in others."

* * *

_

**TWENTY NINE: Turning Points**

Harry kept a close eye on the ticking hands of his wrist watch over the next hour and thirty three minutes as he sat at Kinsgley's kitchen table. An early, pale light had just begun to seep through the big bay windows, shining through the single dew droplets hanging off the bushes and spider webs in the front garden. Harry's cup of tea stood stone cold in front of him.

Finally, he heard the front door open. Harry stood up and went to stand in the kitchen doorway. Tonks was wearing a black, baggy jumper, and had her back to him, trying to shut the door with as little noise as possible.

"Morning," Harry said perfectly audibly.

Tonks leapt almost a foot in the air and turned around with a hand on her heart.

"Merlin, Harry, you scared the bejesus out of me!" she said, clearly startled. "What are you doing up at this time of morning?"

"I could ask you the same thing," he replied in a steady voice.

Tonks pushed her pink hair out of her eyes. "Oh … I just fancied a walk, clear my head, you know, can't waste a morning like this."

"Really?"

Tonks nodded. "You can get away from … everything."

"It's not even 6 a.m."

"No, I know … but I'm on duty at the school this morning, and I couldn't sleep. I suppose that's why you're here too?" she asked, indicating to the stone cold tea on the kitchen work surface.

"Uh, yeah," Harry said, taking the cup and pouring its contents down the sink. "Found it hard to sleep in an actual bed."

Tonks smiled sympathetically. "I know it must've been hard, these past few months. But you should be proud of yourselves! This whole _Horcrux_ business … means we've got him on the ropes, doesn't it?"

Harry nodded. "In a manner of speaking I s'pose."

"Listen, anything you want to tell me … anything at all, it'll stay with me, I promise. If it all gets too much … you can talk to me, Harry."

Harry nodded. "Thanks, Tonks."

"Right, think I'll go and get a shower. Do you want me to tell Ginny anything when I get to Hogwarts?" she said with a cheeky grin.

"No, no that's OK," Harry said.

She turned and left Harry in the kitchen, but he heard her say brightly on the way out, "Morning, Arthur!"

"Morning, Tonks," came a low, gloomy voice. "Hello Harry."

Mr Weasley slouched into the room in a stripy dressing gown that was too short for him, his glasses perched crookedly on the end of his nose.

"Hi," said Harry, noting that Mr Weasley had lost a considerable amount of hair since their last meeting.

"Will you have some breakfast?" Mr Weasley said distractedly. "Eggs? Bacon? Kippers?"

"No, thanks, I'm not really that hungry."

Mr Weasley looked down at his watch. "No, me neither. Goodness, it is early, isn't it? I've lost track of time, recently …"

Harry saw the lines around his eyes deepen and nodded in understanding.

"Does Tonks always go out early for walks?" asked Harry, keeping his eyes down. '

Mr Weasley directed his wand at the kettle and poured himself some tea. "Only recently. I think the McGonagall issue has hit her rather hard … Tonks was taught by her, of course. But so was virtually everyone … this tea is cold, Harry."

"Sorry," Harry said dully. "Mr Weasley … I'd like to see that memory, if that's OK."

Mr Weasley drained his mug and looked over its edge at Harry.

"Are you sure? I completely understand why you didn't want to see it last night –"

"– Yeah, I'm sure. I think I need to see it just for …" He struggled for the words.

"… closure?" Mr Weasley submitted over his horn-rimmed glasses.

Harry looked at Mr Weasley and knew that he perhaps understood exactly how Harry was feeling. "I never expected this."

Mr Weasley shook his head. "When Dumbledore named us three as the potential Secret Keepers I felt safer than I had felt in a long time during this war. _None _of us expected this, Harry. But now we know … we must act. We are blessed with the fact that Minerva does not yet suspect we know of her treachery, which gives us some time. What remains to be decided is whether or not we inform the Ministry, or whether we … deal with it ourselves."

"What do you mean, deal with it yourselves?"

Mr Weasley shook his head. "That will take yet another meeting. Although in the interests of damage limitation, I will suggest that it is decided sooner rather than later."

There was a slight pause.

"If we informed the Ministry, they might even want to leave the situation as it is and _use _Minerva … exceedingly dangerous of course, for the Order especially."

Harry didn't say anything. He really did not know what to say; this tactical talk was far too much to think about when all he had room for in his head was the magnitude of the betrayal.

"The Pensieve was moved to sitting room," Mr Weasley said after a moment. "There is a lock on the door should you wish to use it. I will be here if you need me."

Harry half-smiled in thanks and left the kitchen.

- - - - -

He could not explain to himself why he wanted to see that memory now when he had not done the night before. Something inside him was telling him that he _should _see it, out of common courtesy to those involved. How could he ever believe that McGonagall, ever presently solid and trustworthy McGonagall, had betrayed them if he never saw the footage that incriminated her?

The Pensive was, as Mr Weasley has said, sitting on a handsome mahogany table near the front window looking out on to the lawn. It was a different Pensieve to the one Dumbledore had owned; this one was dark red marble on the outside with no ornate stone carvings, and looked bigger. Harry approached it cautiously and peered in. The thoughts within seemed to swirl pearly white, neither liquid nor gas.

Harry took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. Then, with a sudden reckless bravery, he replaced them and stuck his head into the bowel. Immediately, the world lurched and turned upside-down for several alarming moments, but then, Harry was used to this sensation due to his many trips into the Pensieve with Dumbledore the previous year. He fell, dream-like, through an icy haze, and then landed in what appeared to be a maze of tunnels, lit dimly by torches.

Harry adjusted his glasses and looked around. Behind him was – McGonagall, with a dark hood held fast over her head by the two Death-Eaters on either side, holding her arms.

"Easy, gentlemen, I am an old woman nowadays," said the voice underneath the hood in a broad Scottish accent.

"Precautions, Ma'am. You understand, I'm sure," replied a thick crackling voice, that Harry was sure belonged to Macnair.

The party paused in a dingy part of the tunnel, larger than the winding passageways that seemed to act as a sort of hallway. Harry watched, holding his breath; even though this was all in the past he still felt extremely vulnerable.

The hood was pulled off McGonagall's tartan clad head with a flourish, and she straightened her glasses on the end of her nose, squinting and clutching her bag tightly to her chest. Harry moved slowly and peered into her face. She did seem nervous, it was true, but this was little consolation for what she was about to do.

"Ahh, Minerva. So good to see you out of school for a change," came a high pitched, mocking voice. With a cold surge of sickness, Harry turned his head to the right to see who was greeting McGonagall, but he already knew before he laid eyes on her pale, gaunt face.

"You seem a little worse for wear, Bellatrix," McGonagall said in what appeared to be a sad voice. "Not as vivacious as I remember."

"No, well … Azkaban will do that to a person," Bellatrix replied in a low voice, completely devoid of joke. "You also look different, you know. Can't quite put my finger on it … I must say, I was most surprised when you contacted us. Most surprised."

"And why was that?" McGonagall replied with an air of defiant disdain.

Macnair and Nott had let go of McGonagall's arms and were now standing at her side, their arms crossed like the Queen's royal guards.

"You have been Dumbledore's right-hand woman, have you not, for many years? Forgive me – I ought to be using the past tense these days; you _had _beenhis right-hand woman."

McGonagall smiled although it was more like a grimace than anything else.

"You are a prolific member of the Order of the Phoenix and have many times helped Harry Potter, the Dark Lord's enemy, not to mention his little friends, out of a number of tight scrapes. So forgive us if we exude caution, _Headmistress_, but from where the Dark Lord is standing, something does _not _add up."

"Given my position, the fact that I am standing here in front of you ought to be proof enough that my actions are sincere. My reasons are my own."

Bellatrix smirked. "Touchy."

"I wish to speak to your Lord," McGonagall said, her voice. "That is why I am here; those were the terms of our agreement."

Bellatrix shook her head, and Harry was interested to see that she appeared wholly in charge despite the fact that McGonagall always commanded the most authority.

"That won't be necessary, Minerva. You see, you may be used to having the power back at the kiddie-winks school, now you're wearing the big boots, but here, _we _make the rules. You said you have information that might be of interest to us and were willing to share it in return for –"

"– a considerable sum of money, yes," McGonagall replied.

Harry blinked within the memory. That's what this was all about? McGonagall was after _money_?

"And where do you imagine we would get such funds from?" Bellatrix said, sneering.

"From the undercover robbery of Gringotts that is to take place in five days time," McGonagall said smoothly, "for which I imagine the purpose is not to secure your own wealth, but for others to know you have it and exchange information in return."

Macnair and the other burley form of Nott exchanged slightly nervous glances. Harry saw, with no surprise, that Bellatrix on the other hand didn't even blink.

"Very good, Minerva, very good indeed. How did you come by this information?"

McGonagall gave an uncharacteristic smirk. "I have my resources, Bella. However … Gringotts is notoriously difficult to break into these days … even your Dark Lord will not find it easy. Therefore, if your theft fails, I imagine you have other ways of acquiring currency."

Bella nodded impressively. "Enlighten us."

"Blackmail, murder, theft … the usual."

Bellatrix laughed. "Oh, Minnie, you delight me! I really do hope that your … transformation is genuine. It would be so inconvenient if we had to kill you; you're quite a character."

"Let's get to business, shall we?"

Bellatrix nodded. "You will not be seeing the Dark Lord. I am one of the most trusted advisors, and so you deal through me. If you have any immediate problems with that, they can quickly be resolved with your immediate departure from this life," she said in exactly the same tone.

Macnair and the other Death Eater, Nott, clenched their fists together, as though setting an example of menacing behaviour. McGonagall's expression did not break as Bellatrix continued.

"If the information you provide is useful, then we shall set up another meeting, and he will meet you."

McGonagall paused for a moment, but then nodded. "Agreeable. What about my dividends?"

"Again, if your information is … _useful, _then you need not worry."

This time, McGonagall shook her head. "No deal, Bella. I may not get to speak with your Lord, but I will have my money, regardless of whether or not you botch up the way you act on my information."

She held out her hand expectantly.

Bellatrix narrowed her black eyes and stared at McGonagall.

"What do you have to tell us, Minerva?"

McGonagall withdrew her hand and folded her arms, her bag high on her shoulder. "What I am about to tell you will change everything."

"If I am satisfied, you will get your money," Bellatrix said with, Harry noticed, some impatience.

"I can reveal to you the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix."

There was a ringing silence. Harry held his breath, unable to comprehend what had just been said, although he had known it must have been coming. So she had just sold them all out, just as simply as that …

Suddenly Bellatrix let out a mad bark of laughter.

"HA! And how is that?"

"I am the Secret Keeper for the Order. I can tell you where it is."

Bellatrix began clapping her hands together faster and faster, her eyes dancing. She looked slightly insane.

"Oh, oh, oh! Silly old Dumbledore! He was _too _trusting … Severus is living proof of that, of course, but here it is again! So come on, Minnie … spill the beans!"

"The Headquarters may be found at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place in London."

"_Never!_" Bellatrix contradicted disbelievingly, and then let out a stream of incomprehensible giggling. It was a whole minute before it subsided. Macnair and Nott did not flinch; they must have been used to Bellatrix's wild and unpredictable behaviour. McGonagall on the other hand looked at Bellatrix with narrowed eyes.

"Unbelievable! That's Sirius's old house!"

"Correct," McGonagall replied without emotion.

"HA! Ingenious! That's the _last _place I'd have ever … oh, to use a house with such a history for … for _that …_"

"Yes, well. I have delivered, Lestrange. My payment, if you please."

Harry noted the renewed use of her surname as a sign that she wanted to draw the conversation to a close, but Bellatrix was still giggling and rocking on the balls of her feet.

"Hmm … oh, if this turns out to be true, that Dark Lord will be _most _pleased …"

Macnair cleared his throat. "She could be lying," he said in a low growl.

Bellatrix nodded. "Yes, yes she could, but if she is, I can assure you she'll wish she hadn't."

McGonagall said nothing for a moment. "I do not fear you, Bellatrix. I fear very little, for I know that my information is correct, and that I will be having a conversation with the Dark Lord before long. I came to you, here, at great personal risk to myself, and yet I am here. Your threats mean _nothing _to me."

"You realise of course Minnie … should the Dark Lord chose to act upon your information … and I _so _hope that he does, many of your little friends will be killed? How does that sit with you, I wonder?"

McGonagall did not answer. She simply surveyed Bellatrix with a cold indifference.

"Possibly even Harry Potter? The Chosen One? How will he react when he finds out it was you? If he survives, that is."

"He will not find out. And whether or not he survives is not my concern; that is down to you and your Lord. I am, as of now, indifferent."

Bellatrix smiled cruelly. "It has been a pleasure doing business with you, Professor McGonagall," she said, and took out a small jangling bag from her pocket. McGonagall took it from her and slipped it in her bag, her expression not changing.

"Should the information lead to … satisfying results, then you'll get more. Make contact as you did before in two days time; someone will get back to you, most likely early morning. And may I remind you once more … if you are playing us, you will watch everyone you love die. _Twice._ "

McGonagall nodded and turned on her heel.

"Very well. Well then, gentlemen, put my hood back on. This meeting is over."

Suddenly, Harry felt himself rising into the air in a swirling fog of mist. He had been so lost, so immersed in that memory that he hadn't been prepared for the sudden removal from the mind of someone else, and it made him feel faintly sick.

He landed back in the sitting room, head spinning. McGonagall had certainly fooled the Death Eaters into thinking she had turned, and so she had; the near death experience in Grimmauld Place had rather confirmed that.

But why, _why on earth_ did McGonagall want money? Surely she had enough to live happily; she had a home at Hogwarts, security, she had just survived Dumbledore as Headmistress! What did she want with money?

_Maybe she was playing them._

But she'd signed their death warrants when she'd handed over their whereabouts … and for what? Money?

This didn't make sense.

But within Harry's mind, almost without him even thinking about it, parts of the puzzle were chunking into place, and it filled him with such a fear and dismay that he did not voice it. Not even inside his own head.

- - - - -

"Mr Weasley?" Harry said into the kitchen half an hour later. There were movements heard over head – some people were rising early. Harry rather wanted to ask Mr Weasley about the memory before many people came downstairs.

"Mm?" he answered over the top of the _Daily Prophet._ "Sorry, Harry … miles away. Are you alright? I know that memory's rather upsetting, isn't it?"

Harry nodded, but determined not to be distracted or deterred, he asked the first question. "Gringotts …"

Mr Weasley nodded. "We've informed the Auror division at the Ministry and Gringotts. They're all on high alert, I can assure you; there are sensors everywhere and twenty new Aurors have been deployed with the sole purpose of guarding the vaults. If it was hard to break in before, it's damn near impossible now."

Harry nodded, but still felt uneasy. Where Voldemort was concerned, things that had seemed previously impossible rapidly became all too possible.

"That place that they met in … do we assume that that's …"

"– You Know Who's Headquarters? It would appear so, although we can't be sure. I know Moody's got the best people in the Order analysing the walls, the floor, everything they can to get a better idea."

"So it could be underground?"

Mr Weasley nodded. "Yes, possibly … or maybe in the walls of a cliff or a mountain, perhaps."

Harry contemplated this for a moment before another thing occurred to him. "She wanted money."

Mr Weasley sighed deeply. "We may never understand, Harry. All that can be said is that this war … it brings out the best in some people; the worst in others."

Harry shook his head. "It's just so … so _unlike _McGonagall," Harry pressed. "I mean, she's not greedy, is she? She'd never done anything like that before that might make us think she'd … sell us all out like that … it could have gotten us all killed. And she knew it! When Bellatrix Lestrange …"

Harry broke off, realising all of a sudden that he did not want to discuss the issue of Bellatrix with anyone else yet. True, Lupin had convinced him that he wasn't a murderer, but the act that he had committed would not leave him for a long time. _Maybe it never will, _he thought miserably.

Mr Weasley put a hand on Harry's shoulder.

"Harry … Remus told me what happened at Grimmauld Place … I know you won't want to talk about it, and I won't ask you to … but if it's any help, I think you did the right thing, and so does everyone else."

Although Harry could not speak for the moment, he could tell that Mr Weasley knew he appreciated it when he squeezed his shoulder once more and rose from the kitchen chair.

- - - - -

Almost the entire Order sat down for lunch in the dining room at about one p.m. that afternoon to discuss how to best approach the Ministry.

Moody was the last to lay down his fork. "Well. Does anyone have any immediate suggestions concerning this afternoon's effort?"

No one said anything. Mr Weasley had hardly touched his plate of food; Lupin and Hestia Jones were gazing out of the window whereas Ron and Hermione where conversing quietly.

"Potter?" Moody prompted. Harry was jerked out of his reverie by Moody's brash voice from across the table.

"Sorry … uh, head on I'd say. No point in tiptoeing around."

Moody nodded. "I agree."

"Seconded," said the American.

"Perhaps those of us with substantial jobs at the Ministry ought to take a … backseat, unless Scrimgeour reacts in an unexpected way. If we all lose our jobs, our information will be somewhat … limited," said Mr Weasley.

"Good point, Arthur," said another wizard and Kingsley nodded.

"OK. Let's get this show on the road. Would division number one please stand."

There was a scraping of chairs and eight people stood; Lupin, Kingsley and the American wizard amongst them. The rest Harry only knew because they had introduced themselves since he had been here. One had impressed him greatly by not saying a great deal but by having a commanding presence; Jonathan Walton, he had learned, had been an Auror for nine years but had since become disillusioned with the Ministry. He had told Harry that, though he didn't say much, he was very honoured to meet him and he wished him the best of luck in whatever he did. Walton was one of those who stood now.

"Can you all join me in the kitchen to go over some blueprints before we leave? Division two join us in a few moments if you'd be so kind."

Division one left the room swiftly leaving a respectable number of people in the room. There was a clinking of plates as Mrs Weasley began to pile everyone's plates up. Harry heard her engage Lupin in conversation.

"_Why_ that man doesn't have a house elf … I'll never know!" she said. "It's not like he doesn't have the money."

Another witch, whom Harry knew as Genevieve Stephenson, smiled wryly. "Kingsley doesn't believe in the enslavement of house elves."

Hermione immediately turned around away from Ron. "Good for him!" she said.

Tonks helped Mrs Weasley pile the plates and began chuckling about something with Hermione.

Harry returned to his thoughts that had been previously occupying him: McGonagall's strange behaviour. The way she had spoken with Bellatrix … it had frightened Harry. How could he have lived in the same castle as her for six years, confided important things in her, trusted her with almost as much as Dumbledore …

Laughter from Ron and Hermione caused him to look up. They were both looking at Tonks, who had apparently given in to Hermione's pleading and obliged with her famous pig-snout. Harry half-smiled. Then he looked again. _And again_.

He looked around for some way to contact Ron and Hermione without anyone noticing right away. He spotted a white napkin on the other side of the table.

"_Accio,_" he muttered under his breath. The napkin soared into his hand; no one saw. There was a quill lying in front of where Moody had been sat minutes before, jotting down some last minute details. He reached out his hand slowly and drew it towards him.

It was not difficult to scribble two words on the napkin and stuff it into Hermione's back pocket on his way out of the room. He knew she had felt it as she turned around as he left but, thankfully, had the sense to not react straight away.

He saw, just as he closed the door behind him, Hermione turn away from Ron and read the napkin under the table whilst Ron chatted to Tonks.

_Upstairs. Now._

- - - - -

Harry was more than grateful to know that his best friends were blessed with intelligence; had they not waited for five minutes or more after Harry had left, then more than one person may have noticed that they were in fact following him out without wanting anyone to know. But they joined him in the bedroom five minutes respectively later.

"What's up?" Ron said, concernedly, detaching his hand from Hermione's as they sat down opposite him. "Besides the obvious I mean."

"I saw the memory," Harry said.

Hermione made a sympathetic face. "Oh, Harry … it upset me too, but we've got to try –"

"– that wasn't McGonagall," Harry cut her off sharply, his eyes blazing, furious with himself that he had only just seen it.

Ron and Hermione stared at him.

"Er, what?" Ron said, clearly nonplussed.

"In the Pensieve. That was _not _McGonagall."

Again, there was silence. "Er, Harry, have you had any sleep? I don't want to believe it either, but –"

Harry shook his head. "Why didn't we see it before? McGonagall wouldn't want money!"

"Who was it then, Harry?" said Hermione, as though she were humouring a sick person.

"It was Tonks."

Ron let out a nervous bark of laughter, but Hermione's eyes widened and she clapped a hand to her mouth.

"_Of course!_" she whispered through her fingers.

Ron stared at both of them. "Excuse me … have I just fallen into bizarro world?"

"Don't you see, Ron?" Harry said, a little impatiently but glad that Hermione had finally got it. "Tonks is a –"

"– Metamorphmagus!" Hermione finished for him. "Oh, God! She could have fabricated the whole thing as McGonagall! She even fooled the Death Eaters, so they couldn't even tell on Tonks if they found out she was lying … oh, why didn't we think of this before?"

Ron's face had gone white. "Bloody hell," was all he said.

Harry rubbed his eyes, but felt shivery and feverish at the prospect of what they had just uncovered. "I _knew _something didn't add up … I thought it was weird the way that she and your dad had just … decided to investigate it."

"Hey, my dad didn't have anything to do with this!" said Ron heatedly.

"I'm not saying that," Harry contested as Hermione put a gentle hand on his back. "I'm just saying how it was weird the way she sort of presented it to everyone in the Order like that …"

"That was a damn good bit of acting then," said Ron darkly.

"Well, we know she can act, we saw her in the Pensieve!" Harry said. "And McGonagall hasn't been in touch with anyone here for a while … Tonks is stationed at the school!"

"She could have Stunned her or Obliviated her memory so she'd forget," Hermione said quickly, her eyes bright. "But it's the same thing … _why _would Tonks betray the Order?"

"She's more likely to want money than McGonagall," Ron said. "But it's a hell of a sacrifice."

"I saw Tonks slip out of the house this morning – that's why I was up so early. She could've been meeting them right then … _and _she seemed really startled when she saw me."

The three of them sat in silence for a few moments before Hermione spoke tentatively. "What do we do now?"

"Well we've got to prove it somehow," Ron said, looking out the window, thinking to himself.

"And we're going to have to do it quickly ... because now she knows about the Horcruxes ... she could blab everything ... where the new Headquarters are ... about Ginny ..." Harry felt sick.

"Dunno how we proove it though … she'd just deny it and Lupin …"

"Oh, God," Harry thought with an icy realisation. "Remus …"

"Oh, Harry … are you sure this is right? I mean … maybe it was just McGonagall … what if we accuse Tonks and we're wrong? Think of how Lupin would react!"

Harry put his head in his hands. Hermione was right – what if they were completely wrong? How much more damage would that do than if they were right? But he had been so surethat it _couldn't_ have been McGonagall, and it _certainly _wasn't Arthur Weasley … He raised his head and looked at both of them.

"There's a way we can know for sure. I've got an idea."

- - - - -

* * *

**A/N: **Sorry about the cliffhanger, guys! I know you'll hate me, but the more you review, the quicker I'll update, I promise! I'm writing the next bit right now … oh the angst!

_Next time … _Harry makes a decision about Snape and all hell breaks loose as the mole is uncovered once and for all.


	30. The Mole Uncovered

_**MARKED

* * *

**_

"_You think that simply because you are a marked man, you must walk the solo path? You need guidance. And you must get it quickly, for Voldemort will not wait."

* * *

_

**THIRTY: The Mole Uncovered**

Harry knew that if he accused Tonks with little or no proof, there would surely be repercussions; Chosen One or not. He was therefore certain that his idea would prove things, one way or another, but he was not certain how to go about it.

"We need to make sure _everyone _knows," Hermione said thoughtfully as they made their way down to dinner that evening. "Because if we just come out and say it, I doubt anyone would believe us … not with that memory behind her. I mean all right, they might look into it, but by then it'd be too late …"

"Yeah, but if we're wrong …"

"You're doing the right thing, Harry … if she's not guilty of anything then there won't be any harm done this way."

Harry looked at Hermione sideways. "No, but it could be embarrassing one way or another."

Ron bit his lip as they descended the grand stairs.

"Just changing the subject," Ron said running his hand down the mahogany banisters, "Fallen on our feet with this place, haven't we?"

Harry nodded, not really hearing what Ron was saying, but in truth, he was right. Kingsley's house was very grand, and they had all forgotten just how more uncomfortable sleeping on a cold hard stone floor had been.

"Are you sure this is the right stuff?" Harry said, taking out of his pocket a small crystal vile with clear liquid inside it. "Hope he doesn't miss it …"

Hermione nodded effusively. "Yes, Moody always keeps Veritaserum in his coat pocket, he told me years ago in Grimmauld Place … he keeps an antidote too …"

"You don't think Tonks will have an antidote, do you?" asked Ron.

Harry opened his mouth with trepidation, but Hermione beat him to it.

"I seriously doubt it," she said. "I mean, she thinks everyone is fooled, doesn't she? They've presented it to the Order and there are already plans to take McGonagall into custody. How would it look if someone found an antidote to Veritaserum on her? Plus, if she's innocent, she won't even need an antidote, will she?"

Harry did not answer. He knew that this was, realistically, the only way they were going to find out, but all the same, he could not keep the thought out of his mind that it could all go horribly wrong … in more ways than one.

There were sounds coming from the large dining room already as they reached the bottom of the staircase. All three of them shared a look, bracing themselves, and then Harry pushed the door open.

"Come on in, you three," came Moody's voice from the head of the table." Got lots to go through."

Harry sat in the seat one away from Tonks next to Lupin, Ron and Hermione on the other side of him. His hands were shaking.

"Are you all right?" said Mrs Weasley concernedly. "You all look very pale."

"Yes thanks," they all replied, unhelpfully, together. Harry feared that their replies had been a tad too hearty to be believed, but it seemed to go unnoticed by the rest of the party.

Moody took out a sheet of paper and began talking. The subject was too interesting for Harry to not listen to completely, no matter how distracted he was. The upshot of it was that those who went to the Ministry had had what could only be described as a successful meeting with Scrimgeour.

"He was rather surprised, might I add," said a small, wiry looking wizard with grey hair whom Harry had come to know as Sloane. "A delegation at his door."

"So he was all for co-operation?" asked Mr Weasley.

"Yes," answered his eldest son, Bill. "He looked rather different to the way he did when he first took the job. Not so much bravado."

Moody nodded. "It'll take another few visits, I would imagine, finding out exactly how many numbers we have … but he also had an air of seeming authority, no matter how _co-operative _he was. I remember that face from when I worked under him. He may have mellowed slightly … but there may still be resistance."

"I think that's one of the only reasons he took us seriously," said Lupin. "Your word, Alistor. And the fact that you mentioned Harry."

Harry looked up.

"So we shall need to exchange certain information for trust to be established –"

"– we're not telling him about the Horcruxes," Harry cut off, all thoughts of Tonks momentarily gone.

"We're not suggesting that, Harry," Lupin said. "I think you may need to come with us at some point, so he knows we're genuine. It'll also help if some of the other Aurors see you with us …"

"Sounds like you're going to be a poster boy again, Harry," Fred mumbled under his breath. Mr Weasley heard him however.

"It won't be like the last time, Harry … this is crucial for our success in putting together an –"

"– army, I know," Harry said, nodding. He knew that this was different, and yet he felt an overwhelming sense of de-ja-vu.

"So," Moody said, drawing his hands together in a characteristic gesture to indicate that this particular subject was drawing to a close. "All in all … a successful start. Hopefully we'll get some information that'll help us find You Know Who's HQ before long, and then … the cat's amongst the pixies."

There was a general murmur of assent.

"Now … moving on, there is the issue of Minerva McGonagall."

Harry's throat went dry. If only an opportunity would present itself … he daren't use magic to put the potion into Tonks's wine glass … particularly as she was sitting so close to Lupin. He cast a significant glance to Ron and Hermione.

"We need to make a decisive move one way or another," Charlie Weasley submitted dully. "Either we need to deal with it ourselves, or we hand her over to Magical Law Enforcement and have her sent to Azkaban. But if we leave it any longer …"

" … I agree," said Kingsley. "She could be passing more and more information as we speak. Plus we'll need a new Secret Keeper before long."

Ron reached over Hermione and grasped the wine bottle in the middle of the table. He poured himself, Harry and Hermione full glasses and then looked enquiringly around at everyone else. Harry slipped the stopped out of the vile under the table with one hand.

"No thanks," muttered a few, but it had the desired effect that Harry had hoped, and had everyone look at their glasses. Tonks's was empty. Ron replaced the wine bottle right next to Harry's hand. Lupin reached out automatically to refill Tonks's glass, but Harry beat him to it.

"Don't worry, I'll do it," he said, half-smiling, though never having felt less cheerful.

Lupin smiled at him and Tonks said "Thanks," as he took her glass and placed it in front of him. He held raised the bottle with his right hand and held the glass with his left, on the pretence of keeping it steady, but it actually enabled him to tip half the tiny bottle's contents into the glass with the vile clutched tightly and hidden in his fist. Nobody noticed a thing.

He passed it back to Tonks, not looking at her.

"So, are we all agreed that we should inform Scrimgeour and accompany the Aurors up to the school?"

There was a general murmur of assent and nodded heads.

"Perhaps one of us should seek a meeting with her, make sure she's where we think she'll be," said the American wizard, taking a deep drag on his Cuban cigar.

"Yeah, but she didn't respond last time, did she - ?"

"I set up the meeting."

Silence. Everyone looked at Tonks.

"What do you mean, Tonks?" said Mr Weasley. "You mean you've already set up a meeting with McGonagall?

Tonks clapped a hand over her mouth and looked as though she was about to be sick. "No, I mean I … I made first contact."

Her eyes were wide and bright.

"First contact? What on earth are you on about?" said Elphias Dodge, lowering his wine glass and looking at Tonks concernedly.

"Then I hexed McGonagall up at the school so she'd forget to meet us."

"Tonks?" said Bill uncertainly.

Tonks pushed back her chair hurriedly and stood up, looking terrified. She picked up her glass, stared at it apparently horrified, and dropped it where it smashed loudly on the floor. Everyone was transfixed. Lupin put a hand on Tonks's arm.

"Tonks, sweetheart … what's happened, are you ill?"

But she was looking nowhere but Harry.

"You … _you _…" she stammered. "Did you … did you put – put in my drink ...?"

Slowly, Harry nodded, his heart hammering. Gradually, he raised his hand, knuckles white, to reveal the transparent bottle. Ron and Hermione, it seemed, did not want to look at him.

"Harry, what's going on?" said Lupin sharply, clearly not knowing who to look at.

Tonks took one look at Lupin, who was clearly lost for words, and went to step into a sharp spin –

"_Incarcerous!_" yelled somebody before Harry's hand had even found his wand. Moody had stopped her.

Tonks struggled wildly and fell over her own feet, back into her chair.

"What are you doing?" Lupin yelled. "You're hurting her, Moody!"

Moody pocketed his wand and rose out of his chair, pushing Harry roughly out of the way with his hand.

"Nymphadora Tonks … were you involved with the incident at Grimmauld Place?" he said very slowly and clearly. Every syllable rang with anger.

Slowly, still struggling, Tonks answered, her voice trembling. "Y- yes."

"_Tonks!_" Lupin said, at a complete loss. "Don't say that! Why – why are you saying that?"

He looked from Harry, who was still sitting in his seat, numbed by what he had done, to Hermione, who had her hands over her mouth to stop herself from crying.

"I don't … I don't understand," he said quietly.

"I think I do," said Mr Weasley, standing up. Mrs Weasley made to tug at his sleeve, but he jerked out of her reach, staring at Tonks. "You fabricated the whole thing, didn't you?"

"NO!" Lupin cried.

Moody came forward even more so he was standing directly in front of Tonks. "What did you do?"

Tonks shook her head defiantly, but the Veritaserum Harry had put in her wine was acting powerfully.

"I – I …"

"Answer him, Tonks!" spat Mr Weasley. Harry had never seen him so full of rage; his fists were clenched, his eyes narrowed.

Tonks took a deep rattling breath and, though she looked as though she wished that her mouth were sown up, she opened it and began to speak.

"I approached the Death Eaters first of all using the protocol we had discovered them using last year. I knew they would have changed it by now but I tried it anyway."

"You sent up blue sparks on Smythe Hilltop at midnight?" said Charlie doubtfully.

Tonks nodded her head erratically. "I waited three days but eventually they met with me. I used my Metamorphosis to transform into Minerva McGonagall so they would think she had turned. I told them where Head Quarters for the Order was."

There was an audible gasp from the group. A hush fell almost instantly after.

"Why did they believe you?" said Moody.

"I spun them a tale of McGonagall's desire for the Headmistress post for years, biding her time until Dumbledore was killed, as she knew he would be eventually, leaving her free to turn when he was out of the way."

"How did they not notice, when McGonagall has been teaching at Hogwarts … what did you do?"

"On one of my night duties up at the school I cast a memory charm on her to forget to make contact with the Order so if Arthur and I investigated it, she would be conveniently absent. She wasn't expecting it; she didn't have any reason to be wary of me."

Moody made a low noise somewhere between a sigh and a growl.

"And the memory?" he said quietly.

"It was my own memory. As McGonagall, it would seem as though it was hers. I placed it in the Pensieve up at the school during my lunchtime patrol."

"Why frame McGonagall?" Sloane asked quietly, his eyes narrowed so much that they were reduced to slits.

"She was the easiest to manipulate from here … if she remained at Hogwarts and I confided my fears in Arthur that it had been her who betrayed us …I had to make sure that the Death Eaters couldn't hold revealing me to the Order over my head."

"Have you told them anything else?" Charlie said.

"No," Tonks said quickly. "I refused to tell them more only yesterday because they did not deliver what I had asked."

Nobody needed to ask what it was that Tonks had asked for; they had all seen the memory for themselves. There seemed to be nothing more to say. There was a long silence, broken only when Lupin, who had been quiet since his initial exclamation, stood up from the seat into which he had sunk. He asked the question on everyone's lips.

"_Why, _Tonks?"

First of all she said nothing. Her lips moved, as though something had to come out but she was fighting it.

"WHY!" Lupin roared, making everybody jump, including Tonks.

"I had to, Remus, I had to!"

Harry did not want to witness this; he didn't want to see the tears welling in Lupin's eyes, or the desperation in Tonks's voice, the sheer disbelief on every single person's face, and yet he could not draw his eyes away.

"For what, Tonks? For money? MONEY?"

"It was for us, Remus! We _needed _it! It was to start a new life for us … you have been shunned all your life just because – because you're a werewolf, and it's not your fault! We are paid a _pittance_ for what we do and it's …It's not fair!"

"PEOPLE COULD HAVE DIED!" yelled somebody, but it was not Lupin this time; it was Mr Weasley. "I trusted you, Tonks! I found it SO hard to believe that it was Minerva but I trusted you! Do you have _any _idea how much danger you put us in? MY FAMILY? HARRY!"

Tonks let out a little wail of despair and hung her head, tears falling thick and fast into her lap.

"_Please …_" she said through her tears. "Please understand … I would have stopped … my intention was not to harm …"

Though Harry knew that it was the truth that now tumbled out of Tonks's mouth, he knew it was too late.

"Not to harm?" Moody growled, his tone incredulous. "You acted as a mole! A mole that cares not if her friends got slaughtered, only for her own greed, for her own …"

But Moody could not finish his sentence. It appeared there were no words bad enough to describe what exactly Tonks was or what she had done.

Lupin said nothing, but stared at Tonks with cold eyes, as did everyone else. She tried to gesticulate, clearly anguished.

"I did it for _us!_ For _you_! Please, Remus, _please_ don't hate me!" she cried, the last note of her declaration ringing.

The corner of Lupin's mouth twitched, as though he needed to either yell or be sick. Harry had been holding his breath for an entire minute.

Lupin looked at her coldly, no longer struggling against the ropes that Moody had bound her with. All eyes were now on him.

"Inform the Ministry," he said in a shaky voice, "and have her taken away to assess the damage."

Tonks screamed Lupin's name as he moved past her to the door. She looked at him, tears glazing her face, as Lupin walked past them all and shut the door behind him with a snap leaving a desecrated hush in his wake.

- - - - - -

The head of the Department for Magical Law Enforcement arrived within the hour, flanked by four Aurors to take Tonks away. She did not object nor struggle, but simply allowed them to take her limply by the arms and lead her out of Kingsley's dining room to the garden where they Apparated to the Ministry of Magic for thorough questioning.

Harry was spending all his time with Ron and Hermione in their respective rooms, feeling thoroughly miserable. Lupin had not been seen since he departed the dining room before Tonks's outburst. Harry had knocked softly on his door for a whole ten minutes, but had received no answer. Appreciating that Lupin's feeling of betrayal most probably outweighed Harry's tenfold, Harry felt it best to leave him alone for a time.

Harry had informed Moody, Mr Weasley and Kingsley of what he had done, and why he had done it.

"I didn't want it to go down like that," Harry had mumbled miserably in the kitchen some hours after.

"There was no other way it could have gone down, Potter," Moody had said. "You were right; needed to be public or the little mole might've gotten wind and scarpered."

When Harry continued to look unconvinced, Mrs Weasley put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. "You did the right thing, Harry."

"Yes, Potter, if it weren't for you, I would have been in a rather uncouth place for quite a while," McGonagall had said. She had Floo-ed to Kingsley's house for a short while after Ministry representatives, accompanied by Mr Weasley, had arrived at Hogwarts and retrieved the memories Tonks had Obliviated. "I owe you my freedom. I would have had no way to prove I was innocent."

Harry was still unconvinced by Mr Weasley's grim expression; the forced half-smile to assure Harry that he had done the right thing.

"Don't worry about it, Harry, he's just really angry and upset that Tonks fooled him, that's all," Ron said reassuringly in their room that evening. Dinner had been a subdued affair and Harry and Ron had decided it was best to take some sandwiches upstairs rather than sit at the table around which sat many grim faces.

"Ron's right, Harry, you've got to stop blaming yourself," Hermione conceded. "I only hope Lupin comes round soon … I've never seen him like this before."

It was true; Harry did not know how to go about making Lupin feel better. Things seemed to have ground to a halt at the new Headquarters; there had been no more talk of approaching the Ministry again since Tonks's betrayal and Harry felt, for the first time since being there, that the next move had to come from him. Even though he knew he had done the right thing, Harry felt horribly responsible for the current mood within the house and had a burning desire to do something that may change it … in time.

He had thought of Snape more than ever in the last few days. The day after tomorrow was the day Snape said he would be in Hammersmith graveyard – and now, what with what happened, Harry didn't know what to do. The question was whether or not he confided it in anyone else.

His conversation with Lupin the next day decided things for him.

It was evening at Kingsley's house; people had had dinner and a little more had been discussed at the table about theories of numbers against Voldemort and a new plan was proposed to approach those Death Eaters in custody in order to find Voldemort's Headquarters.

Harry had left the table early, not feeling very hungry, and had run into Lupin on the landing.

"Remus!" Harry had said, startled. "What are you … are you alright?" Harry knew before the automatic words had tumbled out of his mouth that it was a fairly stupid question.

Lupin's face was tightly drawn and grey like his hair. "Harry … yes I'm … I just needed some food."

Lupin made to walk past Harry, but Harry put a hand on his arm. "Remus … I know I can't understand how you're feeling, but I have had people betray me before."

"Harry, look, I …"

All of a sudden, things that Harry had wanted to say were spewing out of his mouth.

"– you were always there for me if I needed to talk, remember? At school and here. When I killed Bellatrix … you think I could've dealt with that without you?" he said a little emotionally and was instantly embarrassed. It seemed that everything he wanted to say to Lupin was rushing out as he had hidden himself away for days.

"Harry, I appreciate your concern, I do. But I –"

"– I know it hurts. But you have to … you have to find a way to move past it."

Lupin opened his mouth and closed it again. Harry felt very strange, standing there, giving advice to the older man who had been his father's and his godfather's best friend, telling him what to do and how to move on. What was more, Lupin appeared to be listening to him.

"I know I have to move on, Harry … it's just … I never expected it. She fooled me."

"She fooled all of us," Harry corrected.

"Yes, but I should have known better."

"Why? Because you let someone in against your better judgement? How easy do you think it was for me to let Ginny in, after everything? How do you think it feels now, knowing she's there, but she's _not _there?"

Lupin blinked. "This … this is different."

"It's always different," Harry said a little sharply; thinking of Ginny had awoken a powerful frustration in his chest. "Look …" he said, lowering his voice a little. "I need you on board, Remus. This war … it's all happening now, and there are things …"

Harry broke off. He knew if he told Lupin about Snape, Lupin would not let him go.

"What do you mean?" Lupin said, sensing there was something a bit more specific afoot.

Harry looked away. "I just mean … everything that's going on … I'd done it all on my own before, and now I'm here … I don't know. I just want you to be OK."

A flicker of a smile passed over Lupin's face, which changed it dramatically. "I will be, Harry. I'm sorry I've shut myself away … I know you know what it's like … I just need some time."

Harry nodded. "I'm here. You know that, right?"

Lupin nodded, and Harry, finally satisfied that everything that needed to be said had been, went to move past him. Lupin put a hand on his shoulder and held his gaze for a moment longer.

"You are _so_ much like your father," he whispered.

- - - - -

Harry could not explain why he had not told Ron or Hermione about the confrontation with Snape in Hogsmead. He knew that if he told them, they would not advise him to go, or else insist on accompanying him. Despite this, he somehow felt that what ever happened with Snape, guilty or not (and Harry had not yet entertained any notion involving Snape as innocent), it was between them – a battle of wills. Now, with things as they were in a kind of stalemate after Tonks's betrayal, Harry was rapidly making up his mind.

Ron and Hermione were still at dinner, others were immersed in their own thoughts or perusing the papers, searching for more deaths but their eyes betraying them by not moving across the page. He was sitting on the edge of the bed and his eyes fell on a heap of chocolate in the corner of the room, near to Ron's bed.

He got up and moved slowly over to them. Sitting back down with a fistful of Chocolate Frogs, Harry held each one up to his eyes, scrutinising the inhabitants of the cards. He discarded Nicholas Flamel, Merlin, one he did not recognise, two more, and there it was; Albus Dumbledore. But Dumbledore was not in the picture.

Harry shook the card a little. Nothing happened.

He cleared his throat and held it clearly up to the light of the guttering candle, casting an eerie flickering light over the room.

"Dumbledore?" he called softly. For a moment, he was sure that it was useless, but then, as though he was standing right next to Harry, a voice came from the card.

"What can I do for you, Harry?" said the minute form of Albus Dumbledore.

Harry shook his head slightly, swallowing down the emotion that rose up in his throat like bile. He would _never_ get used to this.

"Uh … I need to ask about Snape."

Dumbledore inclined his head to the left. "Alas, Harry, we have spoken about this before. I can only give you certain information regarding Severus Snape, and therefore beg that you ask me the right questions."

"Where is your Pensieve hidden?" Harry said.

Dumbledore was silent for a moment, and then he gave a characteristic smile.

"Ahh, at last. This I _can _tell you, gladly. You must go to my admiral tomb, situated of course in the Hogwarts grounds. As you draw up to the marble doorway, I think you shall find the password _Fizzing Wizbee _most useful. There you shall find what you seek. However, if you wish to remain undetected by any party, for now, I would encourage the greatest of stealth. For tonight, and tonight only, you will be able to Apparate to my tomb, but only _directly _to my tomb. By morning, this enchantment shall be lifted, for obvious reasons."

Harry frowned. "Why do I need the Pensieve?"

Dumbledore looked away to the edge of the picture frame. "It will enlighten you in certain aspects concerning my death, and what I hope will lead to a way for you to win this war, Harry, for you cannot do it alone."

"But I am alone," Harry said before he could stop himself.

"No, you are not. You think that simply because you are a marked man, you must walk the solo path? You cannot defeat Voldemort as you are, you know this. You need aid, you need guidance. And you must get it quickly, for Voldemort will not wait."

Harry stared at the Dumbledore in the card.

"I don't understand."

"You will. Everything will be clear before long. Now I depart, and wish you luck in finding my Pensieve."

"Wait! What about Snape – why does he - ?"

But Dumbledore had gone.

Harry jumped a foot in the air as the door opened and Ron came in.

"What you sitting in the dark for?" he asked.

"No reason," Harry replied, stuffing the card into his pocket. Ron continued to look suspicious. Harry elaborated. "I just spoke to Lupin, that's all."

"Ah," Ron said, apparently satisfied. "Is he OK?"

Harry shrugged and pulled back his duvet, getting in to bed. Ron copied him on the other side of the room.

"You know, I think he just needs some time. It's like dad; he's a bit better today. They're just all in shock, you know …"

Ron went off on a long winded talk, leaving Harry free to mutter "yeah," and "that's right," from his bed. The only thing on his mind however was that he was not going to be in bed for much longer.

- - - - -

* * *

**A/N: **Sorry that took ages to get up. It's been re-written three times lol. I really REALLY enjoyed everyone's reviews concerning the whole "potential 3". It kept me amused - some very interesting insights. I love hearing what people think is going to happen ... it's very inspirational so keep 'em coming!

_Next chappie- _Harry and Snape cross paths in the graveyard after Harry hears some devestating news in the Pensieve - but will he tell his loved ones, and can they even help him if he does?


	31. Dumbledore's Late Thoughts

**_MARKED

* * *

_**

"_You are the greatest wizard of all time!"_

"_Oh, Severus, please stop. Rosy cheeks do nothing for my complexion."

* * *

_

**THIRTY-ONE: Dumbledore's Late Thoughts**

It took Ron some twenty minutes before he fell asleep; Harry knew it was genuine through sharing a dormitory with Ron for six years and hearing the familiar grunting snores. He waited a good long while for any other stragglers to go to bed; Moody could still be in the kitchen poring over blueprints or Mr Weasley might still be awake, still fretting over the Tonks situation.

At half past two, Harry felt safe that the whole house was asleep. He slid his legs out of bed and found his jeans and trainers. Ron gave a snuffling snore, but then rolled over and lay on his front, dribbling into his pillow.

Harry pushed the door open silently, grabbing his jumper from the edge of his bed as he did so, and crept out onto the landing, his wand in his jeans pocket. Moonlight filtered in from a large bay window on the landing, illuminating the polished wooden floor that did not creak beneath his feet.

He did not hear a sound as he descended the stairs and nor was there any light from either the kitchen or the living room; he had chosen his time well. Hands trembling, Harry lifted the latch on the front door and closed it softly behind him.

The night air chilled his lungs as an owl hooted over head in one of the large beech trees to his left. He could hear the odd rumble of cars in the nearby main road, but everything else was quiet. _For tonight, and tonight only, you will be able to Apparate to my tomb._

Harry had not Apparated completely on his own before; once he had been with Dumbledore, the other time he was with Ron and Hermione. What if something went wrong? What if he splinched himself? Who would be around to help him, and then, when they came, what questions would be fired?

Shaking his head slightly, as though trying to clear his ears of water, Harry pushed the negative thoughts out of his mind and stepped a little further away from Kinsgley's house and underneath one of the nearby beech trees.

He glanced around him once more; there was no one in sight; even the distant rumble of cars seemed to have diminished. Taking a deep breath, he concentrated on his destination: Dumbledore's tomb in the Hogwarts grounds, and spun confidently on the spot into the feeling of tight compression.

He knew, before he even opened his eyes, that it had worked. Gulping in a great lungful of night air, he squinted as he stood up and looked around. His heart seemed to expand to twice its normal size; there, twinkling in the distance, sparkled the lights of his beloved Hogwarts. The moonlight shone from behind the immense castle so the turrets were silhouetted against the night sky. He could see the Black Lake sparkling under the moonlight; distant memories of the Second Task during the Triwizard tournament came flooding back as he turned to see, with a huge pang, Hagrid's hut not far off, smoke unfurling from the chimney and little squares of light shining onto the grass. Harry hoped in that glorious moment that the war would never touch Hogwarts; would never disperse that wonderful smell of burnt wood, dry grass and spice from the greenhouses; never break through the magnificent oak doors and into the foyer where innocent people like Ginny had, hours ago, sat eating a dinner of beef and turkey, roasted and new potatoes, treacle tart and custard …

Harry shook his head and came to himself, realising suddenly what he was here for. He did not have long.

It was only then that he realised he was standing directly in front of Dumbledore's tomb. It stood in white, impressively solid marble, pillars encasing the outside and the door, through to which Harry knew Dumbledore's shrine lay; the body had burst into flames that beautiful summer's day when the funeral had take place. Trying not to think about that day when he had seen, more clearly than ever before, the long and winding path twisting ahead of him that he was now well and truly down, he moved towards the door and gave it a hesitant push. It remained closed, as he knew it would.

"_Fizzing Wizbee,"_ he said in a hoarse voice, unlike his own.

There was a dull clunk, like heavy metal moving back into place, and the door swung open. Harry glanced behind him; lights still shimmered in the castle, but no one was watching. Hagrid's lights had gone out; it was safe to assume he was unseen.

"_Lumos_", he whispered as he stepped into the tomb and was engulfed in darkness. He gasped, in spite of himself, a little surprised. There, on a wooden shelf at the back of the small stone room, were all of Dumbledore's small silver instruments, still puffing and whirring serenely as though they had never been removed from their owner's desk. On a dusty little table rested Fawke's perch, empty of the feathery bird now. To his right, encased upon the wall, hung an artefact Harry had seen in Dumbledore's office in his second year: the sword of Godric Gryffindor. _He deserves it, _Harry thought.

Harry turned on the spot, taking in all of the little treasures that must have been Dumbledore's. Many of them he did not recognise, or understand: there was a small mirror, broken, that he could not see any use for, but then there were medals pinned up o the stone walls, declaring his Order of Merlin, First Class, and other such achievements … but he was not here to be sentimental.

Over to his left, underneath a picture of a beautiful woman with auburn hair that hung on the wall, was a deep mahogany cabinet. Harry crouched down and ran his fingers around the groove on the edge; the cabinet clicked open – and silvery white light spilled out on to the floor and around the room, rendering Harry's wand useless.

It was the Pensieve. Harry felt a sudden thrill of combined foreboding and excitement. Next to it, lined up as though the arranger had expected Harry to find this here and had ordered it so, were four small bottles, each swimming with their own silvery substance. Harry lifted the Pensieve onto the dusty little table and stared at the ancient runes carved around the outside edge. With sweaty palms, he reached down and grasped the first bottle; it was warm, as though it had been lying in the sun. He uncorked it silently and tipped its contents into the Pensieve. Harry peered cautiously over the edge – and drew back very suddenly, breathing hard, for Snape's face was floating around the Pensieve.

Harry wiped his forehead. Did he really want to see this? What if he didn't believe what he saw? _Or don't want to believe it_, came an unbidden voice from inside his head.

But the time where he had the luxury of burying his head in the sand or asking someone else for help was gone. He clenched his fists, shut his eyes and plunged his face into Dumbledore's late thoughts.

- - - - -

He was falling, falling through an icy curtain of swirling mist, and then he landed, with a graceful bump, in the middle of the Quidditch pitch. He straightened up, squinting, and then an icy cold flooded the pit of his stomach. This was not Hogwarts as it was now … this was Hogwarts as he had known it three years ago … this was the Triwizard Tournament.

There were tiers arranged around him, like an amphitheatre; seats were filled by hundreds of students, all staring anxiously towards what seemed to be directly behind Harry – the maze. There was an odd hush over the congregated mass, as though they had been cheering moments before, but now knew that something had gone horribly wrong. He felt bile rise in his throat, like a sudden panic that needed to be screamed.

This was the night that Voldemort had returned. This was the night when Cedric had been murdered … this was the night that he had been tied up and tortured …

But he couldn't be here to relive that. Dumbledore had not seen that. Surely this was Dumbledore's memory. As he stared around him, bypassing bemused faces that he knew would soon be transformed into horror and fear when he returned, clutching Cedric's body …

There was Dumbledore, pacing the front edge of the maze, looking extremely anxious. Fleur was laying close by on a stretcher, Madame Pomfrey at her side and a dozen Beauxbatons students crying. Krum was sitting on the grass, his head in his hands, a number of Durmstrang students behind him. Karkaroff was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps the moment he feared so much was happening at this exact moment.

Harry moved closer to Dumbledore; he was running his hands through his beard, checking his wrist watch every second. Harry was just adjusting his eyes to the darkness when he saw Snape emerging from the shadows and grab Dumbledore by the shoulder.

Harry had never seen Snape look so worried. His black eyes were wide and glinting; his face was white and drawn and he was, Harry could see, sweating profusely.

"Albus …" he began. Dumbledore turned sharply, clearly not expecting him.

"Severus … I am becoming worried … I fear Harry has been in there too long –"

"– Albus, listen. We need to go somewhere no one will see … there is something I must show you!"

Dumbledore's face was grave. "What is it, Severus? What has happened?"

"_Not here, Dumbledore!_"

And he scurried off towards the shady trees, and Dumbledore followed. Harry moved, dreamlike, with them, and stopped just short of the shaded area underneath the dark trees in which they had come to a halt. The light was so dark he could hardly see their faces.

"Albus, look!"

Snape had ripped the sleeve of his robe upwards and shoved his right forearm under Dumbledore's crooked nose. Harry knew, without seeing it, that Snape was showing Dumbledore the Dark Mark.

"You see?" Snape hissed.

"Good lord …" Dumbledore whispered slightly. "When did this happen, Severus? When did it burn black?"

"Only minutes ago. I was patrolling the east side of the maze - have they found Krum yet?"

"Yes. He says he was Imperiousised but he cannot remember who did it … I have no reason not to believe him."

"Have you any other theories?" Snape said. He seemed to be out of breath; his words came out in a tumbled rush.

"No, not yet," Dumbledore replied distractedly. "Severus, you know what this means, I presume?"

"Of course I know! Karkaroff has fled …" Snape snarled. "What would you have me do? Should I Apparate now?"

Dumbledore was tracing his mouth with his long fingers, looking extremely grave. "We must think … if He has returned … we must get Harry out of the maze as soon as possible … I dread to think what could… you must maintain your post here at Hogwarts … can you do that again?"

"You mean you wish for me to reprise my role as a spy?"

Harry tried to fathom out in his brain what this all meant … so Snape was to be a double, double agent?

"Yes, Severus. But you will need a good story to deceive Lord Voldemort … you must tell him you returned on _my _orders –"

"– On _your _orders? I'll be killed, Albus!"

"No, no you shall not. For therein lies your usefulness … by delaying your return you must tell him that you can still spy on me and Hogwarts … we will need to go over further details of your return …"

"Of course," Snape said. "What would you have me do now?"

Dumbledore moved out of the shade of the trees with such haste that he walked right through Harry, who was rooted to the spot.

"You must help me alert the staff to the dangers Harry is now in … we must get him– _and _Cedric Diggory – out of the maze … it is no longer safe to assume all is well."

"There is no need for that, Headmaster," said Snape quietly in an unnerving voice.

Dumbledore stared at him.

Snape pointed obligingly. "Potter is back."

Harry turned and saw, with some surprise, his own body laying on the grass in a shaken heap, feet from the entrance to the maze, clutching – Cedric. He watched as Dumbledore hurried towards his trembling form and shut his eyes tightly. He did _not _want to remember this … however no sooner had he thought this, he was rising in a whirling mist; the memory was over.

- - - - -

Harry had sat with his back to the shelf for a few moments, breathing deeply, before reaching for the other memory. What he had just seen had deeply unnerved him in more ways than one.

So Snape had indeed gone back on Dumbledore's orders? What did that mean?

_It doesn't mean he's not a murderer, _Harry thought savagely wiping the sweat from his brow; seeing Dumbledore in that memory had made him hate Snape more than ever for what he had done … what he had taken away. _So what if he went back to Voldemort with a story from Dumbledore? He could have been lying all along anyway. He could have pretended the whole time …_

But then why alert Dumbledore to Voldemort's return straightaway? probed an unbidden voice in his head. Why bother?

_So he could stay at Hogwarts and spy for Voldemort! _Harry thought furiously. It proved _nothing_.

Slowly, not taking anything that he had seen at face value and wanting more and more excuses to be able to go to Hammersmith graveyard and confront him for his treachery, Harry emptied the second bottle into the Pensieve and watched it swirl and wind before dipping his face into the bowel.

Before he had adjusted to the falling sensation, he fell softly on a chair in Dumbledore's office. He saw, with a jump, that Dumbledore was sitting right behind him at his desk, scribbling on some parchment. He looked as old as Harry remembered him; his face was drawn from worry and fatigue and the shadows of the guttering candles illuminated the lines gauged deeply in his aged, papery skin. There was a moment where Harry simply looked at Dumbledore, and then the door banged open with such force that the bottle of ink on Dumbledore's desk toppled over. Snape stood in the doorway, his face white, clutching his wand.

"Severus!" Dumbledore said, his tired eyes surveying the Potions master. "What on earth brings you to my office at this hour?"

There was a hint of weariness in Dumbledore's voice; Harry glanced at the clock and saw that it was 3:00 a.m.

"Headmaster … something awful has happened."

Dumbledore stood up behind his desk, his face suddenly tense, alarmed. "What is it?"

Snape gesticulated wildly. "I have been told of a secret mission in the greatest confidence by the Dark Lord himself … a mission that involves both you and Draco."

"Really?" said Dumbledore, moving around from behind his desk so that he was face to face with Snape. "And what was this mission that has you so distressed?"

"Albus … the mission is – the mission is to kill you."

Dumbledore did not react to this news in the way that Harry would have expected. Instead, he returned to his seat and began siphoning off the spilt ink from the parchment he had been writing on as he looked up at Snape, who was in clear distress.

"Did you hear me?" hissed Snape with incredulity.

"Certainly, Severus. You may be unaware that I was blessed with the miracle of hearing from birth."

Snape took a step forwards. "This is no time for jokes, Dumbledore!"

"I am well aware of that," Dumbledore said serenely. "What concerns me most is what you convey about young Mr Malfoy having been set the task."

Snape eyed Dumbledore with sheer disbelief. "Albus! The Dark Lord is plotting your murder!"

Dumbledore shook his head in what Harry, and certainly Snape, may have seen as in a patronising manner. "Voldemort has been keen to end my life since he initially realised I distrusted him; since he has been a teenager. Therefore, this new attempt on my life is hardly a shock, Severus. I wonder why it has you so rattled."

"You have not heard the worst of my news, Albus," Snape went on strongly, his voice shaking. "I fear that the only solution is to blow my cover in the field."

"Why on earth would you need to do that?"

"Because I was forced to make the Unbreakable Vow! Bellatrix and Narcissa came to my home unannounced – I knew before long that a visit from Lucius's wife was inevitable … the Dark Lord only informed them both of the plan to punish them –"

"– For Lucius's blunder at the Ministry I take it?"

Snape nodded, his pale face glistening. "Bellatrix was questioning my loyalty … I had no choice but to make the vow to aid Draco in whatever way possible – "

"– then that is exactly what you shall have to do, Severus."

For a moment, Snape stared at Dumbledore, clearly confused. Then he spoke in a low voice, rough with panic.

"I don't understand you, Albus."

Dumbledore drew his hands up in a characteristic gesture. "You must help Draco in every way you can. If you do not, if you break the vow, the Dark Lord will know that you are a spy."

"Then that is a risk we shall have to take! I can hardly help Draco in methods of killing you … surely someone will notice when I thwart him from actually doing it?"

"Oh, but you won't."

"Won't what?"

"Thwart him," Dumbledore said simply.

A sarcastic expression flittered across Snape's drawn face. "Albus, your sense of humour at this hour is most inspiring, but we must make a plan! We must deduce what I must do before blowing my cover … what information I can get that is most vital – "

"– and what of Draco?" Dumbledore interrupted softly. "How exactly do you propose we save him?"

"We can inform him of the plan! We can pull him out before he has to do anything –"

"– if we inform him that you are a spy and that we intend to help him, there is a danger than Voldemort –" (Snape flinched,) "will find out. You know as well as I do that he will not hesitate to kill him in an instant. He would also kill Narcissa. Do you want that, Severus?"

"If he kills Lucius then that is no waste … the man is rotten to the core. Don't tell me you are becoming soft, Albus?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "No. I am merely trying to protect my students. And you."

Snape eyed Dumbledore with what Harry thought was more suspicion than the occasion warranted.

"Students?" he repeated. "Draco is plural now?"

Dumbledore lowered his head. "I merely meant that –"

"– this is about Potter, isn't it?"

Dumbledore did not answer, but shook his head in a tired way.

"I am sure that Harry will welcome the time when there is something occurring that is _not_ about him."

"That didn't answer my question, Albus. Similarly, you cannot argue that my life is more important than yours! You are the greatest wizard of all time!"

"Oh, Severus, please stop. Rosy cheeks do nothing for my complexion."

"STOP IT!" Snape roared and Harry jumped within the memory. "If you are going to insist on being this way, the only alternative I can see is my death. For I will break that vow."

"No, you will not."

Snape stared at Dumbledore, breathing heavily. Harry felt sick.

"Severus, I am an old man. I have given much to the wizarding world, more than I ever imagined. In the time I have left, for I imagine it will take some time for Draco to get to the point where he needs you to carry out the deed –"

"– I will _not _–"

"– enough."

Snape feel silent.

Dumbledore continued as though there had been no interruption. "In the time that it takes, I will endeavour to do what is necessary, for all parties involved."

Dumbledore paused, looking much older than Harry had remembered him.

"The time has come, as we both knew it would, for me to bow out. Why not do it in a way that helps others, rather than in a selfish over-indulgent battle with Voldemort that I will, one day, not win?"

"BECAUSE YOU ARE NOT REPLACABLE!" Snape shouted.

Dumbledore laughed. "I thank you for you praise, Severus. But I will be replaced. Time must go on."

"But you are GIVING UP!" Snape yelled, his face reddening. "After all … after _everything_ –"

"– Do not mistake it for giving up. I realise that it must be done. Do not mistake this for some glorious sacrifice … It must be done … in order for Harry to win this war."

Harry stared at Dumbledore in the memory. How could he possibly gain advantage from Dumbledore's death? Snape seemed to be thinking along the same lines.

"Albus … how on earth could Potter profit from your death?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "On the contrary, Severus, it will not profit him immediately. Harry is the only one who can kill Voldemort," he said simply.

Snape gave a harsh bark of laughter. "Albus I despise the way you hold him so highly! The boy is of mediocre ability … what could possibly make you think that he has the ability to kill the Dark Lord? You could do it so much better!"

"No, I could not," Dumbledore said sharply. "And this is why you must carry out your vow, Severus, for we are not here to discuss your aversion to Harry. Whilst I am here, he will always assume that _I _am the one in whom the power resides. That _must _change, if we are to win the war. Harry must carry the burden, the biggest one of all, and he must do it soon."

"_Why _–"

" – Severus, I am not foolish enough to tell you the prophecy, for we know that Voldemort could get it out of you if he wished it so … no matter how accomplished an Occlumens you are."

Snape scowled.

"I will simply ask you to trust me, as you did so long ago when you distrusted me."

"Dumbledore … you are asking me to kill the only friend I have ever had … killing you would destroy every ounce of self-belief I have scraped together in these last years. You _cannot_ make me do this."

Dumbledore sighed. "No, I cannot. But I am asking you to."

Harry looked at Snape and saw, with astonishment, that there were tears welling in his black eyes.

"Severus, please …" Dumbledore said softly.

"No, Albus."

Dumbledore nodded. "I knew this would be your initial reaction. In which case, there is some other information I must share with you; information that Voldemort wouldn't even imagine you knowing … it would be inconceivable."

Snape looked deeply mistrustful; he was still shaking.

"Let us then speak openly, Severus. I wonder what you know about Horcruxes?"

Harry felt the floor move. Before long, he was evaporating with the memory in a swirly mist, upwards, moving away from the conversation. He landed with a soft bump on the floor of the tomb, the Pensieve above him glistening with the most recent memory. Harry put his hands on the edge of the table to draw himself up onto his knees; his hands were shaking so badly he could not get a grip. Giving himself over to that horrible wave of nausea he had felt all along, Harry retched and vomited on the floor.

_Dumbledore asked Snape to kill him_.

No.

_Dumbledore TOLD Snape to kill him … he had bullied him._

No!

_Dumbledore committed suicide._

No, he didn't, Harry told himself firmly. There was no other way … it had to be done … Harry knew this all related to the prophecy and, yes, if Dumbledore were still alive, he would not have left school and gone looking for the Horcruxes … but even so …

Still Snape had refused to do it. Feeling that he wanted to get all of this over with before he could dwell ever so miserably on Snape's role in Dumbledore's death, he reached shakily over to the cabinet and drew out the last memory.

- - - - -

He was standing, shakily, in the shady grove of some large trees. The darkness around him was so opaque that he thought it must be night time. A familiar smell hit his nostrils and he knew, without much conscious thought, that this must be the Forbidden Forest; the smell must have been coming from Hagrid's hut.

"Severus, why did you not come to my office?" came Dumbledore's voice from behind him. Harry turned as sharply as the memory would allow and saw, with less of a shock than before, Snape and Dumbledore standing beneath the largest tree.

"Because McGonagall was waiting outside the door for you."

"Ah, yes, I have an appointment with Minerva. Therefore I cannot stay long –"

"– Albus, your life is surely more important than an appointment about Transfiguration!"

Dumbledore said nothing. Harry realised when this must have been … he dimly recalled wheedling out of Hagrid that he had overhead Snape and Dumbledore arguing in the forest one evening …

"We have not resolved the issue … I hardly think killing you is the answer."

"We left the issue how it was meant to be left, Severus. Did you not understand what I told you about the Horcruxes?"

"Of course I did! But I hardly think your slowing reflexes are any case for your murder!"

"Well, I am afraid that I do. And since I am Headmaster, that is enough."

There was a bite in Dumbledore's voice that had not been there before.

Dumbledore went on. "Harry is much better equipped to destroy the Horcruxes. I will help him where I can, but as we know, we have little time."

"Why not alert the Order? Why not let the others invest their time into destroying them?"

"Because their attempts will not go unnoticed. There is only one solution to saving both your life, Draco's life and ensuring that the war can be won. Given the choice, I would always choose this path. You know this Severus."

Snape's shoulders drooped. Harry sensed he was admitting defeat.

"Albus, I cannot kill you. Don't ask me to."

"Severus, please."

There was a pause beneath the trees as both men looked at each other.

"There is no other way. It must be done."

"But I CAN'T!" Snape said, a little louder than the secret occasion warranted.

"Yes, you can. You will get through it with Draco to care for after the war and you must help Harry during it."

Snape snorted. "Potter doesn't trust me as it is. I hardly think murdering his Headmaster will change that."

"Then you _must_ change it. Many of my mistakes with Harry come from caring too much. That will not happen with you – not because you hate him but because you will not fall into the trap! When the time comes, he _must _be able to fight properly! You must teach him spells that will help him, help him protect his mind –"

"– Stop!" Snape spat. "Have you forgotten the last time you asked me to give Potter lessons?"

"No, Severus, I have not. Nor have I forgotten that many a time I tried to teach Harry something, I failed because I cared more for his well being than anything else. You _must _help him. Make him trust you. Neither of you have to like it, but both of you must be ready for the war."

Snape walked away and began pacing.

"You know I have never refused you anything, Albus, no matter what you asked."

"Then I must stress that this situation is no different."

Snape stopped and put a hand on the trunk of a nearby tree, steadying himself. Harry had never seen him look so defeated.

There was a pause, which Dumbledore broke.

"Severus?"

Snape turned and looked at Dumbledore. "Albus …"

"You _must _do this, for me and for the survival of wizarding kind."

Snape straightened up. "As you wish, Headmaster."

"You will be there when I send for you?"

"Yes."

"You will carry out your Vow and help and protect Draco?"

" … Yes."

"And afterwards, when Harry needs your help, will you help him?"

"I …"

"Severus, your word."

There was a long pause. Harry thought Snape was not going to answer.

"Yes."

Dumbledore nodded. "Very well. It is unwise to linger here too long and assume we are not overhead. Let us return to the castle."

- - - - - -

Harry sat against the wall of Dumbledore's tomb and put his head in his hands.

"_Severus … please …"_

He understood what that had meant. And in that understanding came a rush of denial, betrayal, anger and … nothingness.

Dumbledore had betrayed him. He had let him think all the time that he had been murdered … but, essentially, he had committed suicide.

_How can I tell them all that Dumbledore wanted to die?_

You don't, said the harsh commanding voice in the back of his mind. You don't tell them a thing.

The Dumbledore Harry had seen in the Pensieve was not a Dumbledore Harry had ever known. That was … bullying. But ironically, he recalled from that horrific night atop the Lightening Struck Tower, it was not bullying that had moved Snape to action … it had been Dumbledore's pleading.

But as he sat, in complete shock, Harry knew only one thing – his hatred for Snape had not gone. It never would. And he stood, getting ready for the meeting he knew must come, and pushed at the door of the tomb, stumbling slightly, squinting slightly in the red light of dawn sliding over the mountains, bathing the grounds in a blood red – a mark of things to come.

- - - - -

* * *

**A/N: **Phew! Intense eh? I love writing Snape. Let me know what you think of this chappie … and also your theories for next time! I love 'em!

_Next time … _old rivals meet in the graveyard … but things do not go to plan.


	32. An Object Lesson

_**MARKED

* * *

**_

"_You always have to throw that one back in our faces, don't you? _

_How you always save us?"

* * *

_

**THIRTY-TWO: An Object Lesson**

Harry did not know how he managed to get back to Headquarters at Kingsley's house early that morning. He did not even remember walking in a dreamlike haze out of the tomb, shutting the door behind him and walking a few paces away. He could not even remember Apparating, but as he now stood in front of Kingsley's house in the dim light of dawn, Harry knew that he must have managed it somehow.

Birds twittered in the nearby trees still lit by the garish streetlamps that would go out any moment soon; the distant rumble of traffic was louder now than it had been when Harry had left the house … that seemed so long ago even now.

He moved hesitantly towards the temporarily invisible door, until he visualised the house becoming Headquarters in his mind, and then it magically appeared in front of him. He pulled the door open, his hands still shaking and stepped inside.

The hallway was dark but he could hear muffled voices around him. He turned left and went to sit in the kitchen which was, thankfully, empty. There were empty pots and pans lying around from dinner the night before, but Harry hardly noticed them. He sat at the high table, staring out onto the front garden, his chin in his hands.

_I have to tell them,_ he thought miserably.

No.

_But how else can it be explained? _asked the voice inside his head. _How else can you see it?_

Harry had no answer for himself. It really did seem, the more he dwelled ever more desolately on it, that Dumbledore had told Snape to do it. _He _was the guilty one …

_But Snape still went and did it though, didn't he?_ Harry told himself harshly. _He's still a murderer!_

No, Dumbledore is. He's his own murderer.

Harry did not even notice the hot tears welling in his eyes and begin to slide down his face, coating the hands in which his chin sat.

He had not only been manipulated, but he had been … used.

Dumbledore had planned the entire thing to go this way; he had been right about something – Harry would never have gone looking for Horcruxes on his own without Dumbledore; he knew he wouldn't have. So he had left him all alone to carry the biggest burden of all.

And Snape had suddenly decided that _now _was the right time for Harry to be told this? Now? After he had destroyed three Horcruxes on the trot on his own? Why had he waited for so long!

"Are you OK?" came a voice that Harry did not know, obliterating his thoughts of anger and betrayal. It took him a full few seconds to realise that someone must be talking to him.

Harry turned and saw somebody he had seen at the meetings but never spoken to. It was a tall girl with long chestnut brown hair and a straight fringe.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you," she said in a small voice.

Harry mumbled that it was alright and hastily wiped his eyes on the back of his sleeve so she wouldn't see.

"Still thinking about Tonks I suppose?" said the girl shyly. She had big brown eyes and looked very young. Harry was surprised he hadn't thought about this before when he had seen her in Order meetings.

"Gosh I haven't even introduced myself yet," she said with a faint blush. "I'm Cassie Carpenter. Got inducted the year after Tonks."

She held out a small hand. Harry took it without even really thinking about what she had just said.

"I'm Harry –" he began automatically, but then realised how stupid it must have sounded. He didn't really care however.

"I know," Cassie said with a faint smile.

There was a pause as Harry returned to staring out of the window.

"I feel like I'm a bit out of place sometimes," Cassie began, putting her hands together.

Harry let her speak; it was easier to just listen rather than waste energy telling someone as politely as possible that he wanted to be left alone.

"Staying here I mean," she went on. "In a house full of people I don't really know that well … I know some of them, from Auror training. But still … it's a bit weird."

"You get used to it," Harry said dully.

"I hope so. My mum doesn't want me staying here; she reckons it's all a bit too dangerous. I think she was actually disappointed when I graduated," Cassie said with a small laugh.

Not everything she said was going in, but Harry heard some of it. It helped, listening to someone else's story; someone who didn't really know him that well and who wouldn't probe as they knew something else was bothering him.

"But still … she knows I want to be part of this. And everyone's been really nice to me. Not that it matters I guess," she said. "They could be horrid and we'd still all be here for the same thing."

Harry nodded, realising that she spoke the truth. He could tell that Cassie hadn't really spoken to many people since she had been there and probably had a lot on her chest she wanted to get out.

"I wasn't here when the thing with Tonks happened," she said quietly. "Couldn't believe it. Don't think I do now, really. I mean, I thought I knew her."

Harry paused.

"Yeah," he said finally. "You don't know anybody. Not really."

Cassie nodded. "Frightening, isn't it?"

Harry looked at her properly for the first time. He couldn't help noticing, despite the situation, that she was rather pretty in a shy, uncomplicated sort of way.

"Well, I'd best get sorted," she said. "See you around."

"Bye," Harry said, watching her go.

As the door closed behind her he noticed that the weight in his chest was by no means less, but his mind was a little at least.

- - - - - -

It was with a fast beating heart that Harry ascended the grand staircase half an hour later after assuring at least five people, Mrs Weasley among them, that he was fine. He knew what he was going to do, and they weren't going to stop him, whatever they thought.

He nudged open the door of the room that he and Ron slept in, thinking he would be greeted by the sound of Ron's early morning snoring, but Ron was not in his bed. Puzzled, Harry moved across the landing to where Hermione's room was.

He knocked twice, waiting until she told him to come in, but there was no voice. Harry frowned and pushed the door gently. Hermione's bed was empty too.

What was going on?

But even as worry overtook puzzlement in his brain, he heard voices coming from the en-suit bathroom. He moved across the room and heard the voices more clearly; they were more like giggles as he got closer. A moment's recognition told him that they belonged to Ron and Hermione. As much as he had much bigger things to worry about at that particular moment, Harry did _not _want to walk in on his two best friends doing …whatever they were doing.

He cleared his throat loudly.

There was a crash from the bathroom and Harry sat down on the bed to wait.

Hermione emerged, very red in the face followed by Ron, who was pulling his shirt on, grinning shiftily.

"Er …" Ron began, his grin overcoming his explanation.

"Harry," Hermione began. "I … we, er … I was just lending Ron some … some shampoo."

Harry's expression did not soften. How was he going to tell them?

Ron had laughed when Hermione had made the excuse. "Harry … sorry mate, er … this isn't what you want to find, ha …"

Still Harry hardly heard the lame excuses. Now he was here in front of them, he wasn't quite as sure that he wanted to tell them what had happened with the Pensieve … it would be so easy to go to Snape on his own and deal with it his way …

But he knew that he couldn't. If he didn't share this immense mine of information, he would go off to the graveyard with the attitude that he cared not whether he came back. Gone were the times when he kept things that might be important to himself to limit the worry they might cause – and this was definitely important.

"Harry … look, we're sorry, please don't be angry …" Hermione began, still a little embarrassed. "It's just that we –"

"– it's not that," Harry cut her off.

Ron and Hermione's expressions changed dramatically.

"What is it? Has something happened?" Ron began, moving to shut the door.

Harry nodded. "Yes, something's happened. And I …"

_Dumbledore knew exactly what was going to happen._

He did not know what to say. Somehow, the explanation of, 'sorry guys, I was wrong about Snape, he's an innocent murderer and Dumbledore's mapped out my entire life for me,' didn't sound right.

Hermione knelt down in front of Harry.

"Harry, you look really pale," she said concernedly, touching his forehead. "You're all clammy. What's happened?"

_Dumbledore wanted to die._

He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He then realised that he was going to be sick. Ron seemed to realise this and grabbed him around the shoulders, steering him into the bathroom.

"Bloody hell," he said as Harry vomited in the sink. "Harry what on earth …"

"Snape isn't a Death Eater."

There was a long silence. Hermione, who was standing behind Ron with her hand over her mouth, did not move.

"Er … what?" Ron said, letting go of Harry's shoulders as he straightened up to look them both in the face.

"You'd better sit down. There's a lot to go through."

And he told them. He told them everything.

- - - - - -

They reacted in the same way Harry had expected them to. Ron let out numerous low whistles as Harry's tale deepened and said not a lot whereas by the time that he had finished, Hermione had her hands over her mouth in shock. He wished she wouldn't; it made the whole thing harder to face.

"I … I don't think I … I really don't understand," she said in a small voice, her eyes wide.

Ron opened his mouth, looking as though he was about to speak, and closed it again.

"So you found this out last … last night?" Hermione whispered. "Oh Harry … why didn't you tell us before you went?"

"Yeah, we could've come with you," Ron said, speaking at last.

Harry shook his head, feeling suddenly as though he'd aged twenty years in the last twelve hours.

"And if I'd been wrong? If Snape had been lying about it all? How do you think I'd feel telling you that now? That he'd fooled me again?"

"I can't believe you didn't tell us about what happened in Hogsmead," Ron said, an unnaturally dark edge to the tone of his voice. "You _lied, _Harry."

"Yes, I lied," Harry said sharply. "I lied because I didn't want to hear you two telling me it was stupid to listen to him! I didn't want you to make me change my mind."

"Well maybe that's what you needed to hear for a change!" Ron snapped.

"And how would I have found out about Snape if I hadn't gone?" Harry shot back, raising his voice too.

"Well it'd make it easier for you, wouldn't it?"

"Stop it!" Hermione said shrilly.

There was a pause between the three as the silence hung like a heavy fog over their heads.

"So why did you go, if you didn't want to believe him?" Hermione asked finally.

Harry didn't answer. The truth was he'd half hoped that Snape would be there, waiting for him with his wand out, with the thought that he'd successfully lured Harry into a trap. To his utmost surprise, Ron seemed to guess his thoughts.

"Because he wanted a fight," he said, sounding not very much like Ron at all anymore.

"Don't be silly Ron," Hermione said briskly, as though Ron had made an asinine point about one of their Transfiguration assignments. "Harry wouldn't be daft enough to go off alone wanting a fight –"

"– Yes, he would!" Ron burst out hotly. "That's what this is all about, isn't it?"

Ron stood up from his seat on the bed and stared at Harry with a look on his face that suggested he was only really seeing him clearly for the first time.

"I expect you're thinking about going to go to that graveyard on your own and meeting Snape, too!"

"Yes, I was actually!"

"Without informing the Order? Without even _considering _about taking us with you? Us who've been with you the ENTIRE time?"

Harry stared at Ron. Hermione put her hand on Ron's arm as his face was going red. Ron shook her off.

"I mean, have you even considered that these _memories _you saw were fake? That Snape's made it all up? That it's really You Know Who that's going to be waiting for you?"

"Of course I have! What do you think I'm –"

"– but that's what you want, isn't it, Harry? You _want _him to be bad! You want to go there alone and you want to kill him, don't you?"

"But Ron, it doesn't make sense!" Hermione wailed. "Snape could have killed Harry that time in Hogsmead, why make him go to a different location on his own in Hammersmith of all places?"

Ron actually banged his fist on the bedside table. "It's too risky!" he protested.

"There's no way Snape could've fabricated those memories. I got the message from Dumbledore himself on that card about where to go, and half of the memories were from Dumbledore's point of view – they were _his _memories!" Harry said bluntly.

But Ron was still eying Harry as though he was a stranger.

"So he's supposed to _help _you?" Hermione said a little disbelievingly. "Dumbledore wanted him to help you with something to do with fighting Voldemort?"

"Won't know unless I go, will I?" Harry said with a nasty look at Ron.

"Fine," Ron said, moving towards the door. "You go. But I know exactly _why_ you're going, Harry. Even if he can prove he's innocent, you still want to punish him for what he did –"

"Don't judge me, you weren't there –" Harry spat hotly, his mind's eye dragging him reluctantly back to the lightening struck tower where he had had to watch in horror what had happened.

"– and I'm sick of it. I'm sick of seeing that look in your eyes."

"What look?" Harry said defensively. "You mean the slightly confused look when I find out I've been lied to all along by the man I thought was the greatest wizard of all time? Finding out that Dumbledore planned me to do this alone right from the beginning of last year?"

"You know _exactly _what I mean! Coming the innocent now … you're not the same person that you used to be –"

"– no, I don't know what you mean! And if you'd been through what I'd been through maybe you wouldn't be so bloody judgemental!"

"I mean that look you had when you were threatening Borgin, that look you had in Grimmauld Place when you had a clean shot at that Death Eater!"

"Yeah?" Harry spat, firing up. Ron knew _nothing _about this. "And what kind of _Chosen One, _(the words sagged with disdain) would I be if I got cold feet at times like that? You two would be dead for a start!"

Hermione let out a dry sob, her hands out to both of them, as Harry in particular looked as though he wanted very much to throw a punch, and Ron looked only to eager for it to come.

"That's enough!" she yelled.

Ron snorted. "You always have to throw that one back in our faces, don't you? How you always _save _us?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry shouted, feeling not only as though his chest would explode with anger, but also ashamedly close to tears. Here it was – Ron was turning on him.

Ron shook his head, apparently unable to say exactly what it was that he did mean.

"All I know is that look is there all the time now Harry, and to be honest, I don't know who you are any more, and I don't want to know!"

Harry felt as though Ron had punched him in the stomach. He may as well have done as it felt as though the icy words had penetrated him like freezing water coursing through his veins. Harry glanced to Hermione, who was staring at the floor with tears in her eyes, back to Ron, whose face was still red.

Harry nodded silently, as though in defeat, then strode quickly to the door, wrenched it open and slammed it behind him. Ron did not come after him.

- - - - -

_How dare he_?

Harry paced his room, his face dark.

_What look! I'm not turning into anybody!_ Harry told himself deeply. But the truth was that now more than ever, he felt very, very old, like he was in the wrong body and should be an old man.

_How could they react like that? How could Ron!_

After he'd just told them both something that he really didn't want to share with anyone … did they have any idea how hard it had been seeing the truth that had been kept from him for so long?

_Neither of them understood,_ Harry thought savagely. _Snape never bullied them like he bullied me … they didn't see him murder Dumbledore …_

But Dumbledore wanted to die …

Harry let out an inarticulate growl of rage. The whole thing was so confusing! He had been so _sure _Snape was evil, so _determined _for revenge, so _keen _to keep hating him for what he had done, what he had taken away … and yet there was no escaping from those memories, those very real memories; the comfort of knowing Snape had been a murdering Death Eater did not stick anymore.

And yet, Harry couldn't help but feel enraged towards Dumbledore, who had lied to him again, even in death … and now Ron was making it difficult! Like it wouldn't be hard enough facing up to the fact that Snape might be able to help … _to help …_ the thought almost made Harry feel sick, because innocent or not, he still hated Snape.

And what good would it do involving the Order? What would it achieve? They'd only want to verify the memories, which could take days, and they probably wouldn't be able to get into the tomb again anyway, and besides … Harry was supposed to meet Snape today. They'd stop him from going, Lupin especially.

No. There was only one thing to be done, and the argument with Ron had increased his sense of recklessness tenfold. He banged into his bedroom, changed his shirt and grabbed his invisibility cloak and a black hat from inside his feather-light-bewitched trunk.

He then walked quickly downstairs, past the kitchen, inside of which more voices could be heard, past Kinsgley who asked what was wrong, and out of the front door.

- - - - - -

Even as Harry sat with his head resting against the mucky window of the Muggle tube-train, he could hear a voice that belonged to nobody in particular speaking words in his ear.

"_Reckless … dangerous … foolish … anything could happen … shouldn't be travelling alone in public, let alone going to meet Snape …"_

And yet Harry screwed up his eyes against this voice and pulled his hat lower over his forehead, completely hiding his scar. It had been so long since he had travelled by Muggle transport that he had forgotten how excruciatingly slow it was.

"_Faster,"_ he thought without much conviction in his head, and to his great surprise, the train began to speed up unmistakably; the greyish blur of the trees making his eyes fuzzy. Harry glanced around. Some of the other passengers seemed to notice the change in speed and shifted nervously in their seats. Harry sunk down even lower in his seat.

In what seemed like no time at all, the train was slowing down and Harry heard the driver speak through the crackling audio system:

"Hammersmith Station, please remember to take all luggage with you."

Harry got up off his seat and stepped off the train, clutching his wand in his pocket. Everyone who so much as glanced in his direction felt like a Death Eater.

Harry glanced around the busy street. Hammersmith was a big place and he had no idea where the graveyard would be. It had started to rain and the sky was darkening. Cursing the weather, he pulled his jumper tighter around his shoulders and hailed a cab, which splashed to a halt next to him.

"Hammersmith graveyard please," Harry said, scrambling into the backseat.

"What d'you wanna go there for in this weather?" said the driver in a thick cockney accent.

There was a pause.

"Business," Harry muttered shortly, which was sort of true. The driver chuckled.

"Funny type of business!" he said as the cab rolled away down the wet street.

- - - - - -

Hammersmith graveyard was further away and bigger than Harry thought it would be, but most of the graves were old and sunken into the wet ground; there were hardly any new ones.

Creepy twisting birch trees grew out of the damp earth by the side of the stone wall, reminding Harry of the brittle fingers of Grindylows. There was no let up with the rain; Harry's hat was soaked through and dripping down his face; his jumper was cold through to his icy skin. He took his glasses off and wiped them, trying to scan the scene for Snape, but he could see nothing.

Struck by a sudden idea, he pointed his wand at his glasses and muttered, "Impervious." He put them back on and squinted around; there was still no sign of Snape.

A large church loomed up out of the darkness, slate tiles cracked and hanging off the roof, the stained glass windows having seen better days. Harry moved cautiously towards it, squelching mud under his soggy feet. He paused in front of the heavy oak door and gave it a push; it was rusted shut.

"Alohomora!" he said confidently, but nothing happened. Sighing and annoyed at the lack of shelter, Harry turned around, and found himself face to face with Snape.

Harry jumped, half-expecting Snape to not turn up, and yet here he was, standing about fifteen feet away from the steps on which Harry was standing, cloaked as ever in black.

Harry gripped his wand in his hand, not lowering his arm from the previous spell and did not say anything. There was a moment's silence as both men stared at each other with mutual dislike, until Snape spoke.

"I was not certain you would come, Potter. It appears you have more sense than I gave you credit for."

Still Harry said nothing. The rain was getting heavier.

"I must say, your … _disguise … _is inspiring."

Harry opened his mouth in a snarl, speaking at last in a voice so full of hatred he barely recognised it.

"I should have known that you only wanted me to come so you could have one last shot at insulting me before you kill me."

Snape looked mildly surprised. "Kill you, Potter? Why would I want to do that?"

Harry said nothing, but could feel his glare burning into Snape.

"I saw the memories," Harry said slowly. "But that doesn't mean I think you're innocent. It doesn't mean you didn't kill him."

An ugly smile flittered across Snape's face. "I am far from innocent, Potter, I trust you know that."

"What, you mean do I know that you're still a murderer? Yeah, figured that one out by myself, what with being there and all."

Snape's face seemed a little paler underneath his black and sinister hood, but he held Harry's gaze.

"Were you followed at all?" he asked quietly. "Did you tell anybody that you were coming?"

Harry said nothing, but with his last sarcastic remark, he had felt the atmosphere change with a rapidity of a speeding train; Snape was not his teacher any more, and Harry was not required to do as he was told. He wasn't even sure that he didn't want to draw his wand on the man who had made his life such a misery, and continued to do so even now.

Snape scowled. "I told you to speak to _no one _of this meeting, Potter. Are you _still_ incapable of following simple instructions?"

"I don't follow anyone's instructions these days, thanks to you."

"You told Weasley and Granger I presume?" Snape said sardonically, shaking his head in annoyance. "Like father, like son …"

"Shut up," Harry spat, shaking his hair out of his eyes. "They won't tell anyone, and I don't really care if they do or not, because lets face it, you're the one for the high jump if this gets out, not me. Voldemort wouldn't be too happy about those memories, would he? Or that you're meeting the Chosen Brat in secret?"

Snape's expression remained incalculable.

There was at least a minute of complete silence before Snape broke it.

"_If_, as you say, this information travels back to the Dark Lord, you will lose this battle."

"Oh yeah?" Harry spat. "And why's that? Because you're supposed to save the world by _helping _me? I'd sooner believe you'd adopt me."

Snape snarled. "Do not suggest such hideous twilight zones, Potter. Now, I shall say this once and one only. Dumbledore _specifically _told me that after he was gone, you would not be able to win the inevitable battle with the Dark Lord. I could have informed him of this much earlier with regards to your Potions lessons."

Harry opened his mouth to retort, but Snape cut him off.

"I may tell you bluntly that yes, I would rather be force fed poison and burned alive than to put myself in the position of _helping _you, but as it is you who has been chosen to rid this war of the Dark Lord, then what I would rather do is neither here nor there. You are unprepared, as I said before in Hogsmead. You are going to die along with everyone else if you do not receive proper instruction and receive it quickly."

"So why you? Why does this charitable act of assistance have to come from you?"

Snape did not answer straightaway. There was a flicker of pain across his face, but Harry ignored it.

"Because it is the last thing that the Dark Lord will expect. He will see coming any attempt from your current _mentors _at training you for his attacks. And because … it was what Dumbledore wished."

"Do you not think that he might see what a stinking turncoat you are?" Harry said scornfully, pressing his advantage.

Snape snarled. "Whether I am your teacher anymore or not matters very little, Potter, but I warn you; there is only so much of your cheek that I will take."

"Well I guess you'll have to turn around and crawl back under that slimy stone that you crawled out from," Harry said in a low, dangerous voice, ringing with hatred.

Snape's fist that was gripping his wand twitched convulsively, and Harry knew that Snape was itching to strangle him. When he spoke, it was as though his tone was heavy with suppressed anger.

"I care not for your happiness, Potter, I care for the safety of this world –"

"– Don't pretend you care about anything!" Harry yelled, his control fast leaving him. "All right, you might have cared about Dumbledore, but you killed him, didn't you?"

"Do not talk about things you don't understand, you stupid child!" Snape spat, the volume of his voice matching Harry's. "I would not expect you to understand, one who prizes himself upon being a hero and saving everyone, who has built his legend on self-satisfied events that you have emboldened to your own advantage! There are times when not everyone can be saved, and you must do what is necessary in relation to the safety of millions!"

"Safety of millions? Don't make me laugh! All you care about is your own worthless skin! You're a coward!"

Snape did not explode with anger; on the contrary, he arranged his features calmly, but spoke with pure venom in his voice.

"If I am a coward, then I wonder what you would call your father? Your father who only attacked me unless he had his little cronies behind him, who only did anything useful unless it was to his own advantage, who stood by and got himself and his wife killed because he was too proud to believe someone may have betrayed him –"

Harry snapped.

Before he could even control himself and see what Snape was quite clearly trying to do, red spots flashed in front of his eyes and his fists trembled. His face contorted into a mask of rage, he raised his wand and roared an incantation.

He almost knew, before the curse had even left his wand, that Snape would block it.

Sure enough, Snape raised his wand above his head and gave it a complex wave; Harry's hex died before his eyes.

With an inarticulate yell, Harry started forwards, wanting to punish the man who still made him so angry with his bare hands, but Snape fired a spell that stopped him in his tracks. All of a sudden, he could not move his legs any more. He couldn't move any part of his body, and yet his eyes were all seeing and his senses were all functioning. Harry glared daggers at Snape, completely at his mercy.

Snape lowered his wand, though Harry was still immobilised.

"This is an advanced Immobilising Spell," he said calmly, walking around Harry's helpless form. "It requires a different incantation, perfected by the Dark Lord, but is unrecognisable until it hits the victim. This is why Death Eaters use it so much; because it is an illegal curse that hardly any people know how to escape."

There was a rushing in Harry's ears. Snape was taunting him.

"It is done by a non-verbal incantation. _Liberati._"

Harry narrowed his eyes at Snape, unwilling to be helped out of the situation.

"However, the incantation is not enough. Simultaneously, the immobilised victim must utter another curse, also non-verbal, in order to break through simultaneous barriers of the curse. Many cannot do this as it involves the mind doing two things at once"

Still, Harry did nothing, except struggle fruitlessly.

"Fight back, Potter," Snape said in a low and quiet voice.

Harry knew Snape was trying to goad him, and it was working. He would rather have had his own limbs cut off than accept advice or help from Snape, but Harry knew somehow that the Potions master was telling the truth about how to rid himself of the spell.

He said the words _Liberati _in his mind and at the same time thought of the most powerful Stinging Hex he could, allowing the movement of the curse to infuse every particle of his being but at the same time, thinking of release, of _liberation._

It happened suddenly. Harry felt the invisible bonds burst open around him and at the same time, saw Snape recoil, clutching his stomach as Harry's powerful Stinging Hex hit him in the stomach.

Harry sank to his knees; the abruptness of his freedom from nothingness had left him slightly uncoordinated. Snape also made to straighten up and both men stared at each other across the sodden graveyard.

"Passable," Snape said.

Harry had expected nothing less, yet hardly heard Snape speak; he was still too angry from the retort about his father.

"I know what you're trying to do," Harry spat, getting to his feet, his knees wet and muddy, "But it's not going to work."

"On the contrary, Potter. It just did. Would you have produced quite such a powerful hex if you had been aiming at your pet werewolf, for instance?"

Harry said nothing, knowing it was true.

"There is only so much magic you can get through on anger alone," Snape said softly, his hand still on his stomach. "However, if you can master it, if you can use it to your advantage, it can be extremely useful."

Harry's anger had not quite left him, but he found himself listening to Snape against his will, still hating him, still wishing him nothing but ill, but knowing that he had never before been able to bring off simultaneous incantations, let alone break through an Immobilising Spell that powerful before.

"So?" Harry said.

Snape's lip curled into a twisted smile.

"So let us begin."

- - - - -

* * *

**A/N: **I know, I know, cut out her tongue and boil her in oil, right? Or perhaps make her chew off her own legs and then feed them to her? Ah, no. I have it. Cut of her ears, scalp her and then dip her into a sea of piranhas?

I'm so sorry for my long delay. I have many reasons that I won't bore you with, but one of them is … I have discovered the Alex Rider books! And the movie of course. But fear not, nothing can replace Harry … I believe there is room for them both. As a result, I'm thinking of writing a little Alex fan fiction … after Marked is finished of course. And this is an extra long chapter to make up for the wait!

If you haven't read Alex Rider or seen the film Stormbreaker, I sincerely recommend it folks.

Anyhow. Please review, as this chapter was notoriously tough to write, and you know how I love them.

Rosie xxx


	33. Moody's Blueprints

_**MARKED**_

**__**

_"You don't have surprise. They'll know you're coming; they already do."_

**THIRTY-THREE: Moody's Blueprints**

There is only a certain amount of time that someone can stay angry at their best friend for, especially if their friendship is true. Ronald Weasley was running out of ways to skirt Harry in the corridors of Kingsley's deceptively spacious house and even Hermione, always the peacekeeper, had given up trying to bridge the gap between them. Indeed, she herself was becoming tired of covering up Harry's long absences to the rest of the Order by inventing 'long walks' and time to 'clear his head'.

"If you ask me," growled Mad Eye Moody one morning when Hermione had tried to explain, "if that boys head gets any clearer there'll be nothing left in it."

"He is spending an awful lot of time on his own," Mrs Weasley agreed concernedly.

Cassie Carpenter, who was curled up on a chair reading a book, nodded. "It's true; he did seem a little spaced out the other day when I spoke to him," she commented, tossing her long brown hair over her shoulder. "Like he'd seen a ghost or something."

"Well, I expect you would too if the fat of the free world rested on _your _shoulders," muttered Ron testily, jumping to Harry's defence before he even realised it.

Lupin glanced swiftly from Mr and Mrs Weasley to Ron and Hermione,

"Has something happened between you three?" he asked cautiously.

"No," Ron and Hermione replied quickly and in unison.

Lupin did not appear entirely satisfied with their answer, but he pressed the matter no further.

The turning point came later that evening when Harry returned quietly to the house after dark. It had been his third meeting with Snape since the first and, as per usual, Harry's mind felt as battered as his body. Snape seemed to have realised that the only way he could get a satisfactory reaction out of Harry was by taunting him. Naturally Harry attacked in anger, but on the third meeting he found himself beginning to control it.

"You may note that progress is being made, Potter, no matter how tiresome it may seem," Snape had said earlier.

"Tiresome?" Harry had spat, picking himself up off the ground for what felt like the hundredth time. "You have _no _idea."

He could not believe that Dumbledore had planned, had actually made damn sure, that he would be taught this way, knowing he would be subjected to insults and abuse. But what Harry was loathe to admit even to himself was that, no matter how much he reviled Snape, something was working. He had mastered a number of complex hexes and curses of, he assumed, Snape's own invention; not to mention there was a serious increase in power in _all _of his spells now that he was learning to channel his emotions in the right directions.

And now, in the dim glow of Kingsley's hallway, Harry shut the front door as quietly as he could, only to find himself face to face with Lupin.

"Remus …" Harry began, running a hand tiredly over his weary eyes.

"Where have you been?" Lupin asked. His tone was not accusatory but there was a definite edge to his voice.

Harry shook his head. "I … I just went for a –"

"Don't tell me you went for a walk, Harry, I wasn't born yesterday."

Harry sighed. He knew someone may figure out eventually that no one, not even Ghandi, could go for that many walks without becoming seriously bored, but he knew that he wasn't to tell anyone: what if Voldemort found out somehow and used Legilimency to see what Snape had been up to? Events would spiral out of control and all would be lost – Harry may as well tie up his own hands and drop on his knees in front of Voldemort straightaway.

"What have you done to your face?" Lupin exclaimed, indicating towards Harry's bruised jaw. Harry had not even noticed.

"It's nothing," he said, making to push past Lupin, but Lupin caught him by the shoulder.

"Do you want to know how I know you're lying, besides the obvious?"

Harry said nothing.

"Because your father was never any good at it either.

"Look, I –"

"Something's going on, isn't it? Ron and Hermione are acting strangely, too, and people are starting to notice."

Again, Harry said nothing.

"Harry, you _need _to tell me what –"

"– no, I don't."

Suddenly the tiredness was gone and Harry was angry.

"I don't _need _to tell anyone anything, Remus. Three months we spent, me, Ron and Hermione, and we destroyed three Horcruxes on our own without _needing _to tell everyone about it!"

"Nobody asked you to do this on your own, Harry …"

"You just don't get it, do you?" Harry said, struggling to keep his voice level. He had never had an argument with Lupin before. "We only came here because we had no choice, and yeah, OK, we needed help in the end, but this is _my fight,_ Remus. I know everyone is involved and everyone's needed, but in the end, what it comes down to is _me _and _him_. So because of that, if I need to take some time out to do something that's going to help me stay alive, then I will, and I'm not obliged to tell the world about it!"

Lupin fell silent. He seemed to shrink slightly, and Harry noticed, not having meant to hurt his feelings.

"I'm only trying to help you, Harry."

Harry exhaled heavily. "I _know _you are. I know everyone is. But trust me; this is something I have to do, but it's not anything that needs to be shared right now."

There was an uncomfortable silence that seemed to hang in the air for an eternity. Then Lupin spoke.

"OK."

And he turned, walking back to the kitchen, leaving Harry alone in the darkness of the hallway.

- - - - -

_Feel the anger. Let it consume you without fighting it; let it flow through your veins, contained. Keep it there. Now, think of something that makes you feel the opposite and raise your wand, letting the strength that filled you a moment before flow down your arm. Use it. Now, say the incantation …_

Harry relived what Snape had said to him earlier in the day. He was still a little perturbed by his confrontation with Lupin and was trying to control his emotions. However, Snape had told his this right after he had thrown him thirty feet into the air using a spell that, "the Dark Lord himself uses; none of the Death Eaters do," and had stated with malice that, "It would be prudent for you to know what if feels like so you have extra incentive to avoid it in the future." Harry's spells had been markedly more powerful after that.

So now he lay on his bed, rubbing a hand unconsciously across his bruised shoulders and back. He lay for what seemed like two minutes but actually spanned two hours. He was awoken by a gentle knock on the door.

Harry sat up, half hoping that it would be Ron, ready to put the whole stupid thing behind them. It'd be good to have someone to talk to about all the events that were taking place.

The door swung open and Cassie stood there, wearing a thin white top and faded blue jeans, a towel around her shoulders and her hair wet.

"Oh. Hi," said Harry, trying not to sound too disappointed.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," she said.

"Nah, it's OK," Harry said.

"I'm supposed to tell you that there's a meeting in five minutes in the kitchen. I think they've found something pretty useful, the way they were talking," she said, a trace of excitement in her voice. _I remember when I used to get excited about finding new things out, _Harry thought. _And she's older than me._

"Really?" he said, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and wincing. Could he have cracked a rib?

"Are you alright?" she asked. "I know you're probably sick of hearing that. I know I would be."

A flicker of a smile passed across Harry's face. He had almost forgotten what it felt like.

"I'll live," he replied. "For the moment anyway."

Cassie sat down slowly on the very edge of his bed.

"You know, a few of us heard you talking to Remus," she said tentatively. "We weren't listening or anything, it was just hard to block out."

Harry said nothing. Would Cassie share Lupin's views and ask him where he was going?

"I think you're right," she said, taking him by surprise. "I think you do everything for a reason, and if there's a good one why you don't want everyone to know then it ought to be good enough for them."

Harry looked at her. "Thanks."

"But it won't be, though. Good enough, I mean. Because they're older than you they feel as though they ought to know everything; in charge or not."

"Hmm," Harry said. "I'm getting used to that."

There was a pause.

"So … are you coming to this meeting or not?" she asked.

"Sure," Harry said and went to stand up. "Ouch …" he muttered, the gasp of pain escaping his lips before he could stop it.

"You want me to take a look at that?" Cassie asked, indicating to his ribs.

"How did you know?"

Cassie smiled. "Woman's intuition."

Harry raised his eyebrows.

"Oh, and I specialised in Healing during my Auror training," she added with a wry expression.

"That'll do it," Harry replied. "I think I'll be OK," he said unconvincingly.

Cassie looked at him doubtfully. "You'll get questioned again if you go down there with cracked bones, and they might not take no for an answer."

"How do you know they're cracked?" Harry asked, avoiding her point because he knew she was right.

"I don't, until I look."

Harry hesitated a moment, then gave in. "OK," he said, lifting up his torn t-shirt.

Cassie reached out and prodded his chest gently with two slender fingers.

"Does that hurt?" she asked.

"No."

"How about here?"

"No."

Her touch was light and cool and Harry felt himself relaxing slightly for the first time in what felt like an eternity.

"Hmm … then it must be … _this _one."

"Ouch."

Cassie turned and reached for her wand. As she did so, Harry caught a waft of her shampoo: fruity, or maybe that was her perfume? Whatever it was, there was something like cinnamon there too.

"OK," she said, peering at his ribs. "It'll feel a bit hot, then a bit cold, but it won't hurt."

Harry nodded apprehensively.

She touched him lightly with her wand. As she had said, his skin felt hot, then cold, then nothing.

"Better?" she asked.

Harry twisted left and right. The pain had gone.

"Yeah! Thanks, Cassie."

"No problem," she said with a smile, straightening up. "Anything else need fixing?"

Harry paused. "Er … well, my shoulders are a bit sore." He could still smell her perfume.

Cassie half-smiled. "That's nothing that a massage won't cure."

Harry opened his mouth, and then closed it again. What was he supposed to say to that?

She saved him from searching for an answer by heading for the door.

"See you downstairs."

Harry watched her go with a slight frown.

- - - - -

The kitchen was nearly full when Harry came in. Everyone was there: all 9 of the Weasleys including Fred and George who waved; Kingsley, Lupin, Moody, Cassie, Elphias Dodge, Walton and Sloane; the rest Harry only knew by sight. He had been introduced before but the names were all a blur. He also noted, with some surprise, that Professor McGonagall was present. This was a big meeting.

"Good to see you, Potter," she said curtly.

"Evening, Professor," Harry replied as he sat down next to Hermione with Ron on her other side.

"Alright, Potter? Nice walk?" muttered moody from the head of the table.

"Marvellous," Harry replied sarcastically. He no longer cared if they believed him or not.

"Well, now Potter is present, I'll let you all know that we're expecting a delegation from the Ministry to be arriving by Floo very shortly."

"Why?" asked Harry.

"I'll tell you that when they get here, Potter," Moody replied. "The Minister himself has also consented to come. However, judging from what our last meeting yielded, he will not be calling _any _of the shots."

"What's this about, Mad Eye?" said Mr Weasley this time.

"When they get here, Arthur."

A fairly uncomfortable silence followed this announcement. Harry was aware that there were lots of pairs of eyes upon him. Professor McGonagall leaned forwards.

"How have you been keeping, Potter?" she asked crisply.

"Fine, thanks."

"That's a nasty bruise you've got there on your jaw."

"Yes, it is, isn't it?" This time it was Hermione who answered. "I've told Harry to be more careful when he opens that bathroom door …"

"Leave it, Hermione," said Ron in a low voice.

At that moment, there was a whooshing sound from the grate in the kitchen fireplace and suddenly, five men shot out, one of which was the Minister for Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour.

"Ah. Right on time, Rufus," said Moody, checking his watch, his magical eye spinning in its socket.

"Alistor," he said. His eyes scanned the room and rested on Harry, but he did not say anything to anyone else. Harry remembered their last meeting vividly.

The other four men stooped out of the fireplace. They were well dressed, powerful looking men, thought Harry. Moody raised his hand to all of them in recognition and then turned to the Order.

"This is Hector Maltings, Head of the Foreign Wizarding Communications Sector. Kevin Cuttings, newly appointed Head of the Auror Division, and with him Arnold Batty and Billius Dodgkinson, who are representatives for the Unspeakables."

They all nodded mutely, sitting down on the chairs provided. Harry recognised none of them with the exception of Scrimgeour.

"What's the game here, Moody?" said Scrimgeour a little impatiently .Close to, Scrimgeour seemed to have diminished slightly in every sense possible: he seemed a great deal older than when Harry had last seen him and spoke, although it was not without derision, in a somewhat fainter voice compared with his previously powerful and commanding tone. In short, he looked as though he had lost his direction and was fighting to keep it, but failing steadily, like an old lion losing his pride.

Moody cleared his throat.

"Thanks to the cooperation of the Ministry," he said with a courteous nod to the delegation, "I'll come straight to the point and say that we know where You Know Who's Headquarters are."

There was an outbreak of surprised muttering. Harry stared at Moody, who held his hand up for silence so he could continue.

"Are you serious, Moody?" said someone doubtfully.

"We think we've found the main HQ, yes. Obviously there are other cells dotted all over the place, much like any other terrorist organisation, but we think we've got the main lair. And we think that's where there will be things of great interest."

He glanced at Harry, who took this to mean the snake: Nagini.

"So, what do you propose we do?" asked Bill, running a hand over his scarred face.

"Storm it, naturally," Moody said with the air of suggesting a quiet Sunday stroll through the park.

"Storm it?" repeated Lupin incredulously. "You want us to waltz in and storm Voldemort's main Headquarters just like that?"

"We won't be waltzing anywhere, Lupin," came Moody's sharp reply. "Plus, it is very unlikely that You Know Who himself will be there. There'll be a nice nest of Death Eaters we can haul in for questioning, probably a whole array of weaponry and, if we're lucky, plans as to what he's planning to do next. There may also be a couple of bonus items that'll make one of our jobs considerably easier …"

"And what might these items be?" said Scrimgeour sharply.

"Never you mind," growled Moody.

There was a pause as this proposal sank in around the group.

"It sounds awfully dangerous, Mad Eye," said Mrs Weasley, her brown eyes wide with trepidation.

"Of course it's dangerous, Molly. That's what war is all about. But I'd rather we bring the fight to the enemy, wouldn't you?"

Some nodded. Others continued to watch Moody cautiously. The drastic news appeared to have shaken some, who were probably expecting nothing more than the routine weekly updates.

"So. When the Ministry granted us unlimited access to Azkaban we were able to obtain certain information. We gleaned, from none other than Nymphadora Tonks," (Lupin's face darkened) "who would be most likely to be the Secret Keeper."

"She can't be trusted," Lupin said shortly, not looking at any of them. "I think she's proven that."

"I'm aware of your personal feelings on this, Remus, which is why you weren't with us. Trustworthy, no. Useful? Perhaps. Nevertheless, we extracted the whereabouts with necessary force –"

"– I hope you're not asking me to sanction the beating of a prisoner, Moody," said Scrimgeour sharply. Harry had a feeling he was trying to cover his own back and had no actual feelings for the prisoners.

"Not at all, Rufus. Mind you, when the Dementors used to guard Azkaban I imagine that every single one of the prisoners would have taken daily beatings, given a choice."

There was a moment where Harry was sure Scrimgeour was going to shout, but he did not. Instead, he smiled grimly. "Touché."

"After skilled Legilimency, we had our answer," Moody finished. "So … I have here a set of blue-prints –"

"Who was the Secret Keeper?" Harry cut across, a great sense of unease settling in his chest.

Moody looked up from the blue-prints. "Lucius Malfoy."

Harry frowned. "So, Malfoy just told you where you'd find it?" he asked sceptically.

Moody raised his eyebrows. "Not exactly. The word I'd use, Potter, is reluctantly."

"Why have you brought us in on this, Mad Eye?" asked Maltings, speaking for the first time.

"Because we need backup now and most definitely will in the future. I say there's no time like the present. You, Hector, are just the man for the job. If Mr Cuttings here could provide us with some more bodies, it would be greatly appreciated."

Scrimgeour sat forwards. "And if I refuse? If I refuse to lend you my resources?" he said coldly.

"Then I'd consider you a fool, Rufus," said Moody. "I need Batty and Dodgkinson to round up as many Wizarding Militia near the place as possible, in case the buggers get outside our perimeter. I assume you have that power?"

Both Batty and Dodgkinson nodded solemnly. Harry now had a good idea of what the Unspeakables were used for; almost like the wizarding version of MI5.

Moody spread the blue-prints out on the surface of the mahogany table. He flicked his wand and uttered an incantation Harry could not hear. Then, the blue-prints were projected onto a white wall in front of the table, as though fired from an overhead projector. Moody traced the blue-prints with his wand; the projection mirrored his movements.

"How did you get these?" asked Cassie in a hushed voice.

"It's an accurate structure after we scraped every last drop out from the scum's head. This," he said, pointing at the centre of the print where a maze of tunnels snaked across each other, "is the main HQ. The entrance, we believe, is _here,_ but there may be access from _here._ It's sitting inside _this _cliff on the edge of the Scottish wilderness known as Caithness."

"Scotland? That's where they're hiding out?" said Elphias Dodge.

"It's a perfect spot," piped up Mr Weasley. "Caithness is one of the only places in Great Britain where there are no records of any wizard dwellings. It's far away enough, but still within Apparating distance of the hotspots."

"Exactly," agreed Moody. "This is why we ought to strike. I propose we send in Auror scouts to secure the entrances from the Division. Then send in the Order and the best scouts we can rustle up from overseas. I'd want the Militia that you can sort on the outskirts, forming a net," he said, looking to Maltings.

Kevin Cuttings nodded. "All very well, Moody, but I don't want to send in my best scouts so they can get massacred before any others set foot in the place."

"But we will have the element of surprise," pressed Moody. "They won't know we're coming. And I need the best in first."

Harry opened his mouth, and then closed it again. He wasn't remotely afraid of the Minister or his people, but he didn't want his words to be spread like wildfire across the wizarding world, as was possible. He also got the distinct impression that Moody was trying to keep a certain amount of information from Scrimgeour.

"Very well. Supply us with copies of those blue-prints and write me a written brief of what your plans are, and I'll see what I can do," said Cuttings.

Hector Maltings leaned forward. "The best people I can offer you at such short notice are the Americans; they're always ready for action. I doubt I can persuade the French; they'd take over a week of very _public _negotiations, as would the Italians. I might be able to rustle you up a couple of young Spanish Aurors, but no promises. Other countries are still sceptical about much involvement: Greece, for example. They think if they keep their noses clean and their peckers in the sand then You Know Who will leave them alone."

"They'll figure it all out soon enough," said Kingsley darkly in his deep, booming voice.

"How many men can you guarantee me by tomorrow?" asked Moody briskly.

Maltings furrowed his brow. "Thirty guaranteed. Maybe more, if we're lucky. But I'll need a full brief, Moody."

"Done."

Scrimgeour stood up. "Well. It seems that you are taking my men with or without my permission," he said sourly. "Why did you even bring me here?"

"Because it was courteous, Rufus," answered Moody pleasantly. "And to show you that Arthur and the others are all doing their job, which means they still get paid."

Scrimgeour's jaw tightened. "Quite."

"We don't want any of this reported," said Charlie suddenly.

"I don't have that kind of power," Scrimgeour snapped.

Hermione cleared her throat and leant forward ever so slightly. "Actually, I think you've shown that you _do, _Minister. Remember?"

Scrimgeour turned the colour puce, and Harry knew she was reminding him of the time when he had insisted Scrimgeour stop the _Prophet _from headlining front page news every time he so much as sneezed.

"If this goes well, it might even give them something good to report for a change," muttered McGonagall from the corner.

With a scowl, Scrimgeour turned and disappeared without another word into the fire. He was shortly followed by Maltings, Cuttings, Dodgkinson and Batty, who bid everyone goodnight before being consumed by the roar of green flames.

"Right, now that _they've _gone," Moody said, and a few heads turned in his direction. "I should state that the aim of this mission, pure and simple, is to find that snake and rip its head off, which is why Potter is coming with us. I want as little skirmish as possible: we won't have nearly enough man power yet. But I want to move fast on this. Seeing as we have surprise in our favour –"

"– you don't," Harry said shortly. He had been thinking about everything that had been said and discovered, listening intently and mulling it over. Something was wrong; he was sure of it.

"What was that, Potter?" said Moody.

"You haven't got surprise. They'll know you're coming. They already do. He's planned it this way."

"And what makes you say that?" said Sloane tiredly.

Harry opened his mouth, someone else who spoke. Ron.

"Lucius Malfoy telling you all that? It's too easy."

Mrs Weasley seemed to be on the verge of reprimanding her son before seemingly deciding that he had made a valid point.

"Weasley, I know you've done a lot since you left school," said McGonagall in a pacifying way, "but this has been examined by the experts. If the Order deems it necessary –"

"– What's the protocol for questioning prisoners?" asked Hermione, cutting off McGonagall, something she would never have done in class at Hogwarts. "I mean, do you have to contact them in advance?"

Moody sighed and raised a hand for Walton to explain, who had been to Azkaban to review security.

"Security has since been tightened. It may interest you to know that it was when you three got in under false names earlier in the year that we changed things."

Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged a look.

"You have to alert the guards the day before if you are from the public, and then provide evidence for your visit and identification. Because of our ability to pull some strings, we were allowed in four hours after making the call –"

"Four hours was too long," Harry said wearily. "Voldemort has spies among Azkaban; he must have. Malfoy's leaked stuff about me before to the papers and he couldn't have done that without help."

"So what are you saying, Harry?" asked Mr Weasley.

Harry glanced at Ron and Hermione before speaking. "It's just … so _unlikely_!"

"So we should halt the mission because you have a hunch that it's … _unlikely?_" said someone from the shadows, whose name Harry could not remember.

"Let him speak, Flinghammer!" said Mrs Weasley sharply. "What do you mean, dear?"

Harry shook his head. "Look, I know Voldemort, alright? And this is just … just screaming out as a classic. He knows we know about his Horcruxes, right? So he knows we'll have stepped up our attempts to find them: he can't get the Death Eaters and Malfoy out with only a couple of spies, not with all the new security –"

"– and four hours is ample time to get a message through one spy and back to the Big Cheese," said Ron. "Harry's right; there's something up."

Harry looked at him and their eyes met. Had Ron just stuck up for him? Suddenly, Harry felt more confident. Between him, Ron and Hermione, the three of them probably knew more about Voldemort than the entire Order combined.

"So, what are you saying? We were supposed to find out where the HQ is? Why would he give that away?" asked Charlie.

"I'm just saying it wouldn't have been difficult to get word out for instructions and Malfoy be told to just 'let slip' about this place."

Moody clicked his tongue. "I thought you would have been first out the door on this, Potter, a chance to get that snake finally out the way. Then you can take the fight to You Know Who himself!" he barked.

"I don't think Harry's quite ready for that, Mad Eye," said Mrs Weasley quietly.

"He doesn't have a choice, Molly." This time it had been Lupin who spoke. Harry spread his hands on the table.

"Look, I'm all for taking the fight to Voldemort, and maybe I am ready. God knows he's blighted my life long enough for me to want this to be over with as soon as possible. But it's just that … I don't know, don't you think he'd guard his _last _Horcrux a bit more carefully? If he'd known Malfoy could be forced to give up that information, wouldn't he have found a way to shut him up by now?"

Moody snorted. "Perhaps, but it wasn't easy information to get. We didn't just stroll in and say 'excuse us, Mr Malfoy, sir, would be so kind as to help us dismantle your boss's entire organisation?' After the Minister's cooperation, we had access to some of the best known Legilimens' on the planet."

Hermione let out a breath and looked around her. "There's also the possibility that he's made more Horcruxes …" she said in a hushed tone, as though unwilling to voice such a proposition.

"Ah, on that note, we don't think that he has," said Cassie. "After what Harry told us about how You Know Who makes his Horcruxes we've had people all over the Underground listening out for any theft of valuable artefacts and things and there's been nothing."

There was a beat. Then –

"Look, Potter, I understand your concerns. Of course there are risks; that's what this job is all about and it sure as hell doesn't get any easier. But we'll have a lot of manpower once Maltings comes up with the goods. Even if we don't find your snake, there may be _something _there that we can use against You Know Who and some Death Eaters worth getting rid of. What do you say?"

Harry knew that the Order was going in with or without him. Perhaps he was being over-cautious; what if they did get hold of Nagini once and for all? Then that would be it: there would be nothing left between him and Voldemort. He suddenly wondered what Snape would have to say about this mission.

"It'd be useful to have you, Potter," Moody pressed. "Not only are you another body but you've seen the brute before, if I recall correctly."

"In the disgusting flesh," Harry nodded grimly, remembering vividly being tied to the tombstone in the graveyard and having the snake slither around him, hoping he would be her next meal.

"He's also You Know Who's biggest target," said McGonagall. "We could be playing right into their hands."

"He's Voldemort's _only _target," said Lupin quietly, still not looking at Harry. "Once Harry's out the way, he'd think there would be no one left to fight."

"He'd be wrong," growled Moody venomously. "And in any case, the boy's old enough to look after himself. In or out, Potter?"

Harry closed his eyes for a second, aware that everyone was looking at him. Why did he feel so badly about all this? The Order wasn't stupid; they'd know a trap when they saw one.

_Wouldn't they?_

Maybe he was being irrational.

_But you know Voldemort,_ said a voice inside his head. _And he knows you._

Either way, Moody was right about one thing: they _did _need him. Trap or not.

"In."

There was a visible ripple of agreement around the table, but Harry wasn't finished.

"But I want Ron and Hermione there, too."

An instant hush. Then –

"But it would be unnecessary to –"

"– raise your hand in this room if you have tracked down, seen and helped to destroy a Horcrux."

One of the loudest silences Harry had even heard followed this pronouncement as Ron and Hermione slowly raised their hands like Harry. He waited a few seconds to make his point and then lowered his hand.

"I think it's totally necessary. Don't you?"

No one answered. Mr Weasley was staring into his empty glass but Charlie leant forward.

"Ron, bro, you can't –"

"I can, if it helps Harry. And that's the end of it."

In that moment, Harry was more proud than he had ever been to have Ronald Weasley as his best friend. Here, in front of his whole family, he had stood his ground for his best friend when he didn't have to, and Harry would never be able to express in words just how much he appreciated it.

Moody nodded, more to himself than anyone else it seemed.

"Right then. I'll be up all night making the arrangements. We'll leave tomorrow morning at 6:30 a.m sharp via Portkeys to Caithness, where we'll go over the final logistics. Any questions? No? Good. Get some rest, all of you. Don't be late."

- - - - -

The company left the table sporadically in dribs and drabs.

"How's school, Professor?" Harry heard Hermione ask McGonagall as the Headmistress gathered her tartan handbag.

"It's quiet, Granger," McGonagall said with a sniff. "Too quiet, if you understand my meaning. Students are worried. There are hardly any detentions these days, almost as though they forget to misbehave. I get besieged with questions about _you _three," she added irritably with a glare towards Harry, as though this was his fault. "However, I shall be pleased to report that all is well."

Half an hour later Harry was sitting on his bed in the darkness, thinking about what was going to happen in the morning. Could it nearly all be over? This time tomorrow could he be preparing for the fight of his life and the possible freedom that would follow?

There was a knock at the door and Ron poked his head around the frame.

"Can I come in?"

"Yeah. It's your room too."

Ron came into the room.

"Thanks for what you did in there," Harry said, staring at his shoelaces. It … well, it means a lot."

Ron half-shrugged as he sat down on his own bed. "S'the least I could do."

Silence. They were both supposed to be adults now; why was this so difficult?

"Look, Harry. What I said –"

"– forget it."

"No, I don't want to forget it. I was out of line –"

"– actually, you were right. But that's why …" Harry paused. It was hard to voice that Ron had been right in a way, because he didn't want to turn into the person he had been accused of becoming. "… That's why I need you on my side," he said slowly.

"I am on your side, Harry," Ron answered in a soft voice. "I just … I dunno, I just get scared sometimes … like scared of you getting hurt by Snape and yelling at you was how I dealt with it.

Harry grinned. "Just as long as you don't yell at Hermione. We don't want you to end up in hospital."

Ron chuckled and the door opened again. It was Hermione. From one look at Harry and Ron, she could tell that things had been sorted. Predictably, she started to cry.

"Hermione, don't –" Ron began.

She threw her hands up in despair. "The pair of you are just _so _…what if something happened? What if something happened and you weren't speaking to each other?" she demanded.

"Ever the optimist," Harry muttered quietly.

Hermione plonked herself down next to Ron and wiped her eyes.

Ron cleared his throat. "So … how's it been with Snivellus?"

Harry could tell that Ron had wanted to ask this question for well over a week.

"Awful," Harry answered truthfully. "But useful."

"I suppose that's where you got _that _from?" Hermione asked, indicating to Harry's jaw.

Harry nodded. "I don't know … it's like, I know he's on our side, but that doesn't make it any easier."

"And you still don't think we can tell anyone?" asked Ron.

Harry shook his head.

"He's only trying to save his own skin," Ron pointed out. "I mean, if people knew about him and it got back to You Know Who then he'd be mincemeat."

"True. But if he's killed, who's going to teach me Death Eater type spells? Who can show me exactly what's up the enemy's sleeve?"

Ron shrugged. "I dunno … Lupin, maybe?"

Harry shook his head. "He'd be too nice. And besides, since when has he had access to Death Eater spells? I hate it, and I'd rather it was _anyone _but him, but I don't have a choice."

Hermione was frowning thoughtfully. "I suppose it makes sense. I mean, I know he … he killed Dumbledore, but he sort of _had _to, didn't he? And he is a very good wizard, especially as he'll have access to illegal spells and unregistered curses we don't know about. It must give you some idea of what you'll be up against, Harry."

Harry nodded, letting her words wash over him. It felt good to talk about Snape after keeping it so close to the chest for the past week.

"Does he push you around?" Ron asked abruptly.

"In a manner of speaking."

"Do you still hate his guts?"

"Violently."

"Well at least some things never change," Ron said, a trace of amusement in his voice.

The door creaked open and they all stopped talking quickly. Fred and George stood in the doorway; their faces alight with a feverish delight that suggested they were up to no good.

"Alright, you three?" said Fred brightly.

"Hi," Harry replied with a smile.

"What were you two doing in the meeting?" asked Hermione suspiciously.

George beamed. "We've gone up with the world, Granger, so there's no need for _that_ look."

"And don't worry, Harry, we aren't here to question you about your covert strolls –"

"– no, we'll leave _that _to our dear sister."

"What do you mean, 'you've gone up in the world'?" asked Ron, fiddling absent minded with Hermione's hair.

"Remember our Defence Merchandise from the joke shop?" Fred said.

Harry, Ron and Hermione nodded.

"Well, we've improved it" George stated proudly. "We got a truck load of orders from the ministry last week, but we've told Moody that we can get him some of our high quality stuff for free, you know, to help out."

"We've just been going through it with him now."

Ron raised his eyebrows. "Like what?"

"Remember the Instant Peruvian Darkness powder? Well, it's much more instant –"

"– and dark."

"And it comes with a small chewy pill, lemon flavour incidentally, that gives the thrower perfect vision through the powder."

"Handy," Harry said.

"And we've developed our Shield Hats to Shield Covering Body Parts –"

"– arms, legs, crown jewels, you name it –"

"Except now you can also have Reflecto Hats –"

"– also for arms, legs, crown jewels, you name it –"

"– which reflect the spell fired at you back to the original caster. I mean, it wouldn't work on You Know Who or anything, but it'd be handy for those brainless Death Eaters."

"Cool," said Harry and Ron together.

"That's brilliant magic," Hermione praised, her suspicious expression vanishing in a moment.

"Thank you, Hermione," said Fred with a flourish. "Mum can't stop hugging us."

"Yeah, you'd think she thought we'd end up washing dishes in the Leaky Cauldron or something," said Fred disbelievingly as Ron snorted.

"Are you coming tomorrow, then?" Harry asked.

Fred shook his head. "Nah, we're not _allowed_."

"We don't have your _special status_," George said sarcastically.

"Mind you, joking aside, I'd want to have you three along with me on something like this after everything that's happened," Fred said seriously.

George nodded. "Here, here."

"_Fred! George!"_ came Mrs Weasley's voice from upstairs. _"There are dishes to be done if you're not doing anything useful!"_

Fred looked dispiritedly at his twin. "Backtrack. I guess we are dishwashers."

"No rest for the talented," George agreed.

With self-satisfied beams, the twins rose as one and trudged down the stairs, leaving a silence behind them. Ron turned to Harry.

"So … _what do you think?"_

Harry didn't have to ask what Ron was talking about to know he was referring to the morning's mission.

Harry rubbed his eyes wearily. "I think it's a mistake," he said after a pause.

Hermione nodded. "Yes, almost as though it's too good to be true," she said thoughtfully.

"Still, we have to go though, don't we?" Ron said. "We might be able to help."

Harry smiled grimly. "If this goes down like the Order says it will and it _is _the right place, I want to be there to see it burnt to the bloody ground. I've earned that much."

- - - - -

**A/N: **Still reading? I know that was a long chapter, so if you are, thanks! I've pretty much planned the whole ending, so just to let you know that there will probably be five more chapters. Then that's it! What thinkest thou of this one?

I know I haven't been replying to you guys much, and I'm really sorry for that, I'll try and do it after I post this one, as I REALLY appreciate your comments. Love you guys!

Rosie

_Next time … The mission goes down, but not as expected, and power will change hands at the top. Harry realises he has to start doing things his way._


	34. Goblin, Elf and Redcap

_**MARKED

* * *

**_

_With a sickening dread, Harry knew what it was._

"_Run, as fast as you can," he said in a low voice.

* * *

_

**THIRTY-FOUR: Goblin, Elf and Redcap**

The morning dawned chilly and bright. No one was late. At 6:30 sharp, the company assembled around one of the Portkeys that Mad Eye Moody had organised (an old copper kettle) and waited whilst Moody spoke.

"Right, this is the first batch; we'll go in groups. I want Sector A first, including you three," he said, pointing at Harry, Ron and Hermione. "Sectors B and C are to follow directly after. Don't move once you're there: wait for the final briefing."

Harry shuffled forwards and placed a finger on the kettle in a group of familiar faces, including Lupin, Sloane, Walton and Kingsley. He could feel his heart echoing in his ears.

"Be safe," said Mrs Weasley from the kitchen table. Her face was pale and drawn and her tea was stone cold.

Moody raised his wand.

"One …"

_If this goes well, it might give them something good to report for a change … _What a boost it would give the community …

"… two."

_We've had people all over the Underground … and there's been nothing … _Why wasn't he making any more Horcruxes?

"Three."

There was a familiar jerk in the region of Harry's navel and the whirling colours of those beside him turning into a muddy blur. His head spun as he felt himself leaving Kingsley's kitchen and his stomach lurched. He was travelling through nothingness, a roaring in his ears, and then he fell flat on his face into a mossy surface.

It was only when he straightened up that Harry realised they had been transported to a dingy little shack with half the roof missing and very little in the way of flooring. A fierce north wind battered the crumbling wooden walls and Harry shivered despite his protective dark clothing. A grimy broken window revealed that they were positioned high in the wild Scottish hills, surrounded by purples, greens and browns.

There was a high pitched whooshing sound and Sector B arrived, closely followed by Sector C. The Order that had been staying at Kingsley's house seemed apprehensive, but in an excitable way, like naïve soldiers on the eve of battle. Harry wished that he shared their enthusiasm.

Moody arrived, his bristled hair awry, and stared around at the company.

"Right, you lot. We've got about a two mile walk to Pengaryn Castle: that's an old ruin about half a mile from the cliff entrance. We're coming into it from different positions for the most obvious reason that we don't want to be tracked by the enemy. We'll be meeting the reinforcements there, where we'll be going over the final plan. Any questions? Very well – Disillusion yourselves and let's let walking."

It was a strange sensation, walking with thirty or so people who had all taken on the exact colouring of the background. Sometimes Harry felt as if he was walking completely alone, but if he narrowed his eyes slightly he could see the faint, shimmering outline of bodies moving beside him.

The terrain was rocky and unforgiving. All the while a bitter wind ripped through the air, biting at fingers, lips and noses. Harry's toes were numbed within the first five minutes.

It took them forty minutes to walk the two miles by the dim light of Moody's wand; he himself being so faint. Pengaryn castle, where they were to be joined by reinforcements, was a ruin. There was more crumbling rock and brick than any form of substantial building, but it was sheltered by the mass of the steep cliff rising up behind it. The wind dropped dramatically. Harry's fingers were blue and his lips felt dry.

"OK … show yourselves," came Moody's voice from up ahead.

Eerily, as though they melted through the air, people started appearing, their bodies taking on their real colours.

Moody limped towards Harry.

"Potter, can you shoot a decent Patronus in _that _direction?" he said, pointing up at the battered turrets, many of which had crashed to the rocky floor, but behind which there stood what had once perhaps been a watchtower of sorts.

Harry raised his wand and imagined the Order arresting every loose Death Eater one by one.

_Expecto Patronum!_ he thought. Snape had been drilling into him the importance of non-verbal spells.

"You have a predictable difficulty with these, Potter," he had said silkily. He had spoken at the time in a very composed voice, seeing as moments before Harry had caused the pillar above his head to collapse, showering him in rock.

"No doubt teachers who have more concern for your mental welfare than I have also tried to impress this upon you, but I cannot stress the advantage it gives a wizard enough."

"Oh, I think you can," Harry said through gritted teeth. "You're not telling me how?"

Snape had paused. "It is something that wizards have to feel; you have to allow the spell, both incantation and motion, to consume you completely. _If_ you learn to channel your emotions properly then you may find it easier."

But though it was true Harry was finding non-verbal spells tough, the image he had chosen to accompany his Patronus was so strong that a huge silver stag erupted from his wand tip without him ever saying a word and charged towards the watchtower.

The company turned to watch it move across the barren landscape, some with surprised looks: many of them had never even seen Harry raise his wand before.

Harry supposed that it must be a signal for the reinforcements. Sure enough, there was a minute's delay during which time all that could be heard was the swishing wind around them rustling through the bracken and heather, and then one head popped up behind a forgotten turret, raising a hand in caution. Moody mimicked the action and indicated that Harry and the other thirty or so moved forwards.

As they did so, more heads appeared from behind rocks and clumps of bushes.

"Cuttings?" Moody called out as they neared the watchtower.

"Here," called back Kevin Cuttings, emerging slowly. Harry recognised him instantly, but he looked different without the suit; it was almost as though the less formal attire didn't quite fit him.

"Everything to plan?" asked Moody checking his watch.

"Yes," Cuttings replied. "All organised. I've got for you here …" he said, clicking his fingers impatiently behind him and those remaining hidden came further forwards. "Twenty American Aurors; seven of them are the best and thirteen are still qualifying, but they're capable enough. They can't spare any more at the moment. The other ten are from my office; five of my best scouts and five specialist Stormers."

"That's thirty," Moody stated. "I expected more."

"Well, you didn't give me much time, Moody. But what I have got for you are damn good Aurors."

Moody nodded, but it was with reluctance. "We're sixty-four, then."

He glanced around at everyone and Harry felt Hermione nudge his arm beside him.

"I thought there would be more than this," she whispered unsteadily.

"So did I," Harry answered truthfully. What if there were over sixty Death Eaters?

"I'm handing you over to Mr Cuttings," Moody barked over the wind, "who'll go over the final details of our entry."

Cuttings stepped forward, looking strangely impressive, framed by the crumbling archway. He held up a hand, indicating to the Americans who, in contrast, were dressed in blue.

"This is the Eagle Squad. Seven of them will be accompanying the scouts up to gain first entry. Step forward all those involved."

In an army-like fashion, eleven men and three women stepped away from the crowd.

"Use your weaponry to gain access and then send the signal when you have secured the entry points. The signal is, as always, Patronuses, and they ought to be as bright as Potter's was. Got that?"

Harry noticed eyes suddenly on him, most of them American. It was interesting to note that despite their professional bravado and the fact that they had consented to undertake a dangerous mission, they couldn't resist a peek at the Chosen One's famous scar.

"After the signal we'll send the rest up. The blueprints show that there are three tunnels leading away from the entry chamber. Once we get up there, I've been told …" he said with a slight edge to his voice, "… that Potter, Weasley and Granger here are to accompany each squad down the three tunnels."

_We're going to be split up,_ Harry thought.

Cuttings clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "Personally, I think that's a mistake. But I have my recommendations," he said with a glance to Moody. "This is because of a potentially dangerous snake that I have been informed about, which should only be attacked with force. Am I right, Moody?"

"Yes."

The snake is apparently some kind of guardian of You Know Who, and I'm told it won't be easy to kill. Simultaneously, transfigure any evidence you find so we can examine it back at the Ministry: weapons, plans, equipment … anything."

There were curt nods.

"With reference to Death Eaters, use whatever force is necessary, but do not kill unless you have to: we want them for interrogation."

_Interrogation?_ thought Harry, doubtful that it would involve tea, biscuits and a nice friendly chat.

"Are there any questions?"

Kingsley raised a hand, his golden rings glinting in the weak sunlight.

"How are we getting _up _there?"

Harry looked: the hole in the side of the cliff was at least 200 feet up and there didn't appear to be any usable route towards it.

"The Unspeakables have arranged for brooms to be held in the possession of nearby Militia, who are incidentally acting as our perimeter: not a singe Death Eater will escape. Not even if they get past us first. So, Moody – if you would be so kind."

Moody raised his wand.

"_Accio brooms!_" he barked. "It'll take a minute or so."

"Lastly," Cuttings said, "I'd like four specialising Healers to stay on the inner perimeter – that's here – instead of going in, so you can be on standby for emergencies. The Militia have also consented to send for reinforcements if need be."

Cassie opened her mouth angrily, stepping forward. "But we can fight – !"

"You have your instructions, Carpenter. Get on with them."

Harry saw Cassie close her mouth slowly, her fists balled: it appeared that not many people argued with the Head of the Auror Department.

"Ahh, here comes our transport," said Elphias Dodge brightly, as though the whole thing was just a big day trip to the coast.

Sure enough, a huge convey of brooms suddenly rounded a large rock and descended upon them.

Meanwhile, Harry had been wondering what the weaponry was that Cuttings had mentioned the scouts would have, and then saw that they were all clutching small glass balls filled with Fred and George's Instant Peruvian Darkness Powder. Harry smiled to himself.

"I must report back to the Ministry and debrief the Minister. I'll leave you to it, Moody," said Cuttings.

"Thank you, Kevin."

"Good luck, everyone."

Although he had addressed the whole group, Harry noticed that Cuttings had been looking at directly at him before he Apparated.

- - - - -

The waiting was the worst part: wondering what the scouts had found inside the cave entrance, if anything. Moody checked his watch nervously every two minutes. The thirteen American Aurors stood mutely by the watchtower, their eyes flickering to and from Moody, their wands clutched in their hands.

Harry felt sick with nerves and Ron was white, but he could feel Hermione trembling beside him. He took her hand briefly.

"Listen … you've got to relax. There's going to be a team of twenty people when we get in there, needing your experience."

Hermione nodded but she still looked scared.

Harry squeezed her hand. "You can do this. They need us, OK?

"OK."

And then a shining white fox appeared, padding softly through the bushes. It ran in a circle around them before vanishing like smoke before their eyes.

"That one of yours?" asked Moody, addressing an American.

"Yes, Sir."

"Good. Let's get up there. Three by three, please. Grab a broom. Healers, that's Jessop, Carpenter, Brown and Buggins, I hope we don't need you."

Cassie scowled.

Harry stepped forward with Ron and Hermione to grab a broom and felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned and found himself looking into a face he did not know.

"Harry Potter? I'm Joe Ryan."

He held out a weather beaten hand and Harry took it. He was young, probably mid-twenties, with blue eyes.

"I just wanted to say that it's an honour to meet you and to fight next to you."

"Thanks," Harry said awkwardly. It was funny to have someone older, more qualified and better looking than him to tell him this. "We're glad you're here too."

Joe nodded. "Glad to help. You're pretty big in the U.S. Did you know that?"

"I – "

"– enough jabbering over there; get on a bloody broom!" Moody snarled from the front.

Harry swung a leg over the battered broom that had been summoned and hovered over to where Ron and Hermione were in line. It shuddered beneath him and Harry could tell that the broom was old, probably on its last legs.

"You ready for this?" he asked Ron.

Ron looked at him and their eyes met.

"Yes."

Up ahead, Moody raised a hand pointing upwards. The rest of the company followed him and kicked off from the ground.

As he soared upwards following the three in front of him, Harry forgot that his broom was old and rickety. He even forgot that he was on a dangerous mission with the country's best Aurors. He hadn't been on a broom for a long, long time and now with the wind whipping his hair and Pengaryn castle becoming smaller and smaller, the feeling of freedom relaxed him more than anything.

The group in front of him was bearing left, so Harry turned towards Ron so that they were following their leaders.

The cliff loomed up in front of them, dark and massive, its impenetrable rocks appearing sinister against the sky. Harry saw the dark gap in the cliff halfway up. There was a rocky ledge jutting out from one side; big enough to stand on but probably not enough to test.

"Heading in!" Moody cried.

They were getting nearer and nearer to the cave. A few seconds later and everything went dark. Harry gripped his broom tightly. He braked just in time as everyone on front of him stopped.

As his eyes adjusted to the dimness of the cave, Harry noticed that the scouts were all waiting for them with their wands lit. He dismounted and looked around him: they seemed to have entered an anti-chamber of sorts, but it was huge. Every cough, footstep and rustle of clothing echoed off the vast cavernous walls. Harry could not see the rocky ceiling: he supposed it must carry on right up to the top of the cliff.

"All clear?" Moody asked and it seemed as though hundreds of Moody's were asking the question.

"We've scouted the whole chamber and put a Silencing Charm around it," said one of Cuttings' scouts. "No sign of any Death Eater activity."

Harry frowned. Ron too seemed perturbed as he nudged Harry and said, "Wouldn't they have a guard on watch or something?"

Lupin heard him. "Perhaps not. Even if they have sensors in place our clothes are designed to scramble them."

Ron shrugged and Harry still felt uneasy.

Moody coughed so he had their attention and began arranging the three groups by hand, taking some people by the shoulders and physically moving them. After five minutes there were three groups of about 20 people standing separately at the mouth of each snaking tunnel. Moody had named the teams Goblin, Elf and Redcap teams to distinguish. Harry was a Redcap; Hermione was an Elf and Ron a Goblin. Behind him stood Kingsley, Sloane, two scouts and a mixture of American Aurors. Joe Ryan was one of them.

"Search and gather what you can. Subdue any Death Eaters. If your Patronuses are strong enough they'll get through the cave walls as a distress signal. Each one of you will be given a special sweet, which Fred and George Weasley have assured me will alert our Healing team to your position."

A burley middle-aged Auror went around handing out sweets. It was an ironic scene.

"I want you three in the middle, understood?" he said to Harry, Ron and Hermione. "Avoid fighting if you can: you're not here for combat. You're here for advice and experience. Having said that," he went on in a lower voice, "if you see that snake, Potter, do what you can to snuff it."

Harry nodded, thinking privately that judging by the trouble they had previously had with Horcruxes, 'snuffing it' would not be as easy as they all thought. _Then again, that's why I'm here. I know Voldemort; I know his style._

"Redcap team, you will follow Shacklebolt and take the centre tunnel. The Elf team will follow to the left and Goblin team follow Lupin to the right. All got your sweets? Good, let's go."

With a last positive look to Ron and Hermione, Harry stepped forwards into the tunnel. The dark open space above his head was instantly replaced by the low, dripping tunnel ceiling. Harry himself had to stoop considerably and the rest of the Redcap team were bent double to avoid cracking their heads. Harry had about eight people in front of him, the other twelve or so bringing up the rear.

They travelled in single file for a few minutes and then the tunnel opened out wider so they were able to go two by two. The American Auror next to Harry said nothing.

The only light came from Kingsley's wand at the front and from one at the back, so Harry could not see where he was putting his hands or feet, or what he was putting them on. The rocky floor was wet and the walls slimy; perhaps there was a river or stream somewhere in the cliffside. The air was stale and damp: was this the type of existence Death Eaters in Voldemort's employ endured? _If it is then they get a pretty raw deal,_ Harry thought.

Suddenly the tunnel split, forking left and right; one had a fairly steep incline upwards, the other went down. Harry became all too aware of the thousands of tonnes of rock pressing down on him and shut his eyes to ward off the overwhelming sense of claustrophobia.

Kingsley held up a hand to stop. Some came forward to see what the problem was.

"A fork?" said one of the Auror scouts.

"That wasn't on the blueprints."

"No," Kingsley said slowly. Harry could tell he was doing some quick thinking: go on and risk getting lost? Or send a Patronus but have nothing to show for it? Harry wasn't going to stand on ceremony.

"I think we should go back," he said.

There was a pause when no one spoke. Harry went on.

"Listen, if Malfoy's information was fed then everything we know about this place is completely useless. We're completely in the dark!"

"But we haven't found anything yet," said a wiry American with ginger hair.

"Exactly," Harry said more confidently.

"We were sure there was something here," said Kingsley rubbing his chin. "It's not that I don't value your opinion, Harry, but I think we ought to investigate further. We'll split, I think: ten and ten."

The company divided themselves and Harry automatically did the same, yet both forked tunnels looked equally uninviting. Kingsley was in the other group.

Why had they even brought him if they weren't going to listen? Perhaps the fear in his voice had betrayed him.

"The situation has now changed," Kingsley said softly. "If you find _anything,_ send a signal if you need help or not."

With a nod, he led his team down the lower tunnel. Harry reluctantly followed the rest of the Redcap team up the other tunnel.

The air was instantly colder; it felt as though they were climbing. The burley faced Auror turned to Harry.

"Not losing your nerve, are you boy?"

Harry narrowed his eyes in anger. "I'm just being careful," he said sharply.

The Auror snorted. "Personally, I don't think you should be here."

Harry stared at him. What did it take? He was supposedly well known in America; they knew his story. What did they want? To wrap him in cotton wool all his life and then throw him into the lion's den? This man was clearly stupid, he thought.

"Leave off, Eric," came a woman's voice.

"Personally, I think you should do your research," Harry muttered quietly.

They trudged on in the darkness. Once or twice the leader at the front called a halt and the company held their wands aloft, but it was merely a disturbance caused by a louder dripping from overhead or the rushing of the wind through the cracks in the rock.

Still the path sloped upwards and Harry was beginning to feel more and more unsure. Something was not right and he was all too aware that they were about as far into the cliff as they could get. His knees protested as the tunnel climbed and climbed. Harry heard, with some satisfaction, that the stupid Auror called Eric was grunting with the effort.

"Where are the bastards?" said the woman from the front who had defended Harry. "There's no sign of them having been here at all, let alone living here."

_That's because they're _not_ here,_ Harry thought.

"Maybe we _should_ go back, Charles," called Joe Ryan. "Elf and Goblin teams might have at least found something. Perhaps this was just a disused tunnel?"

But that wasn't right, Harry thought. This had been the central tunnel: it wouldn't have been disused.

"Our orders were to search the tunnel," said the Auror heading the line in a growling voice. "We haven't done that yet."

_Screw the orders. This is a bloody wild goose chase._

They walked on a few more paces and the tunnel unexpectedly became extremely narrow – and then stopped.

Suddenly, all the hairs on the back of Harry's neck stood up and his fingertips were tingling. It was a feeling he'd felt before and had always been accompanied by imminent danger.

The Auror at the front was examining the rock. "Maybe we can break through," he said thoughtfully.

"There's something wrong," Harry said, louder than the Auror.

"Of course there is. We've run out of path," said a scout sarcastically.

"What do you mean?" Joe asked Harry.

Harry's heart began to beat very fast and his head was spinning. "I think this was a trap. We have to get out of here, now."

"I _knew _he shouldn't have come," Eric spat whilst examining the solid wall in front of him. "The kid can't keep his nerve."

"Look, I'm here to _help _you because, believe it or not, I know Voldemort!"

Predictably, there were winces at the name.

"Now you can listen, or you can ignore me, but _this _is NOT right, I tell you!"

There was a pause. It was clear that none of them had expected Harry to speak so strongly. The tingling had now spread to his feet and he knew it had nothing to do with the drop in temperature.

Harry opened his mouth and closed it again. There was something moving overhead. It was faint at first. Could it be the snake? Had he actually been wrong after all?

"What the hell is that?" said someone.

Now the noise was under their feet. It had become louder and more persistent; a rushing now more than a swishing. It was in the walls.

Suddenly the rushing gave way to a low, distinct rumbling that travelled up through his legs and into his very bones. With a sickening dread, Harry knew what it was.

"Run, as fast as you can," he said in a low voice.

The woman's eyes widened. "Is that –"

"– water, and it's not a little stream. What are you waiting for? _Run_!"

Judging by the intensity of the rumbling and the way that tiny crumbs of rock were falling from the ceiling, Harry knew there was no way they would all get back down the tunnel in time.

Eric abandoned all pretence and ran. Two other followed him, scrambling over the rock.

"Can't we hold it off with a repellent charm or something?" whispered the woman.

"It wouldn't be strong enough!" said the lead Auror and his voice had risen about an octave. "Potter's right – we have to run!"

Harry raised his wand, letting the fear flow through him.

"Come ON, Potter! You want to go swimming? You can't hold it!"

Harry said nothing. He was totally focused; it was almost as though he had known this would happen, and fear was an emotion he could use.

_Let it consume you, let it flow through your veins. Use it._

"_POTTER!"_ shouted the Aurors.

"_Run!"_ Harry yelled over the rumbling, but they did not.

They hadn't seen, as he had so clearly, that this was what Voldemort had planned; to lure them like lambs as deep into the cliff as they could possibly go and then flood them like ants with no possible hope of escape. There was no snake here; there wasn't even a single Death Eater.

And then the rock started to shift.

"_Colloaquas!"_ Harry bellowed.

A blue shield, thicker than steel, erupted from the end of Harry's wand and wrapped itself over the rock directly in front of them. It looked like cling-film spread over an air pocket but Harry knew he could not hold it for long; his arm was already aching and he was concentrating so hard on maintaining it that his head was hurting.

The remaining Aurors were staring, transfixed, at the power of Harry's spell.

"How are you doing that …?"

"We haven't got time – GO!" he yelled.

That was when the water broke through and the Aurors scrambled. Harry's arm shook as though it had been hit by a speeding train, but the shield held: he had at least bought them some time.

Harry backed away as quickly as he could but the water was starting to seep through the cracks in the walls around him and behind him. He knew it would be more difficult to sustain the spell from further away, but he had to try.

Harry was in total darkness now: he couldn't light his wand for fear of letting the shield drop, but he wasn't sure how much longer he could hold it. Perhaps if he could just get out of the narrowest part of the tunnel …

"Harry!"

Joe Ryan was waiting, wand lit.

"What are you still doing here?" Harry panted. "Run, you idiot!"

"I could just leave you on your own!" Joe yelled. "You might think the others are cowards, but they were just under-qualified, that's not our way –"

"– it doesn't matter, Joe, let's just get out of here!"

"How long can you hold it for?" Joe asked hurriedly.

Harry groaned. His brain was hurting. "Thirty seconds, maybe … just light the way then, will you?"

And they moved as fast as they could with Harry maintaining the shield behind him. He managed to hold it for another full minute, but then his arm dropped and he could hardly stand.

They were, at least, out of the forked tunnel that had led upwards, but could see no sign of Kingsley or the others.

And then they heard it: water, thundering terrifyingly through the passage behind them. It sounded, Harry thought detachedly, like the London Underground.

The water hit them hard from behind and all light went out; Joe's wand must have been ripped from his fingertips. Harry knew a moment of sheer terror as an icy jet swept his feet out from underneath him and submerged him almost instantly.

Everything was black and Harry couldn't breathe. His feet skidded against the rough floor as he was swept along and he kicked out hard, trying to make contact. He broke the surface for a few breathless seconds, cracking his head on the rock above. Joe was gone.

Knowing it could be his last, Harry sucked in the biggest breath of oxygen he possibly could before he was sucked under again.

His wand was still gripped tightly in his hand. Harry tried to open his eyes underwater but it was too dark to see anything, almost as though it was a thicker kind of liquid, and in any case, the force of the water made his eyes sting.

_Lumos,_ he thought with all his might, unable to speak. Thankfully his wand tip ignited and he could see a little way ahead of him. The walls were rushing past but he could not tell which way was up, such was the strength of the current.

A stalagmite loomed up suddenly in front of him, coming out of nowhere, and Harry flung out his arms and legs, desperate to cling onto it. His foot made contact with the base and he managed to curl it around. The current was fierce, but Harry managed to wrap both arms around it and began to push himself frantically to the surface for the second time.

_Was_ this the way to the surface? It was impossible to tell, but Harry's instincts told him to pull up. He did so as hard as he could, cutting his hands on the roughly jutting rock from the tip of the stalagmite. With a final massive effort, Harry wrenched his heavy body with waterlogged clothes up to the surface.

He drank in the air like a child dying of thirst, sending the oxygen flowing back to his brain. In that moment, he was simply glad to still be breathing.

_Now what?_ he thought to himself, still clinging like an absurd limpet to his rocky saviour. He began to feel a little hopeless: the oxygen supply would surely be cut off soon as the water was definitely rising. A Bubble Head charm, perhaps? No, there wasn't enough room to establish it out of the water first.

And then he saw it: a gap in the ceiling about five metres away. It was a very small gap and, quite literally, a shot in the dark, but it was all he had. Perhaps if he could grab the edge he could pull himself up into … who knew where? They had all seen the blueprints but since the other fork hadn't been on there, there was no way he could know where he was or where he was headed.

It was very hard to let go of the stalagmite. _Just do it, just let go,_ he told himself, and if the water hadn't been so near the rough ceiling, he may have found it harder, but in the end he had no choice.

Harry let go and was instantly propelled forwards, a vicious undercurrent trying to drag him down again but he fought with all his strength to keep his head above water so he could see the gap.

It came upon him very suddenly but he didn't have to reach very far, now that the water was so high. His hands clasped the edge of the rock and he gripped tightly with the current flowing around him. Harry tried to pull himself up through the gap, but it was so hard to drag out his own sodden bodyweight; it felt as though he was carrying two people and a hippogriff on his back.

Then, something hit him from behind. Harry cried out in horror; he couldn't help it. It was a body, being carried along through the tunnel, and it was dead.

Harry couldn't tell exactly who it was from that angle, but judging from the blue clothing it must have been an American with blank, frosted eyes, mouth hanging uselessly open, face up. Harry tore his gaze away, gritted his teeth and pulled with all his might.

At long last he managed to heave himself out of the water and through the small gap. He rolled over, soaking wet and shivering and breathed in deeply. He was alive … which was probably more than could be said for some of the others. Maybe some made it out.

_Ron and Hermione, _he thought with a jolt. He could only hope that Moody and Lupin had heard the water and forced everyone to run. Maybe the fact that their tunnels had sloped downwards would have given them some extra time.

Harry almost did not want to light his wand to see where he was: he didn't want to see a very low ceiling with hardly any room to crawl or that there was no way out. He felt something hard digging into his side and reached into his pocket to see what it was.

It was small and round and Harry realised what it was: Fred and George's Alerting Sweets.

He unwrapped it and stuffed it into his mouth, chewing feverishly. Almost at once he could see his body glowing with a green light, which got brighter and brighter, culminating in a beam shooting out from the top of his head and straight up. He recalled dimly what Moody had said.

_Fred and George Weasley have assured me it will alert out Healing team to your position._

But there will be so many emergencies, Harry thought. Those who were still breathing would presumably be doing the same thing.

_They'll have to call for reinforcements. _

Very shortly, the light went out. Harry had no way of knowing whether or not they knew of his position, but he hoped against hope that Fred and George would pull through for him and everyone else.

Harry took a breath and lit his wand, still able to hear the water gushing through the tunnel underneath him. Would it perhaps rise even further and flood him through the gap where he had escaped? It was possible. Hermione had once taught him how to seal a hole in his socks with a charm, but somehow he doubted that it would extrapolate to rock.

Looking up, he saw that the ceiling was higher than he had thought; about 12 feet above his head. He appeared to have broken through to some kind of small chamber through the ancient floor. He wondered briefly who had made these chambers and tunnels; goblins perhaps, hundreds of years ago. He dimly recalled Professor Binns saying something about goblin tunnelling in the seventeenth century.

Harry stood up, his legs still unsteady. He could shake the image of the drowned Auror from his mind's eye: how many more were there like that, floating beneath him?

Harry ran his hands along the walls. If this was a purpose built chamber then there must surely be an entrance of some kind. The chamber was dome shaped and not very long, and it didn't take him long to come across the pile of rock that completely covered what must have once been a doorway.

Harry swore in frustration. He couldn't break through, not from this side anyway. He considered the Reducto spell briefly, but a glance at the floor reminded him that he would probably bring down the entire mountainside.

_I'll just have to wait it out,_ he thought. _Maybe they'll come._ Or maybe he'd starve to death or be drowned by the rising water.

Harry sat in the corner and ran through everything that Snape had taught him so far, but no matter how hard he thought, there was no handy spell to get him out of a blocked in, insubstantial cave. He could, at least, perform the Bubble Head charm if need be from here, but they didn't last forever.

As he sat, momentarily out of danger, he had time to dwell on how incredibly stupid the whole mission had been. There had been unreliable evidence, nothing hardcore except their own complete belief that it had been right and they had taken in not only their own, but another country's best combat wizards. And now, it was quite possible that every last one of them was dead.

_They were clutching at straws,_ Harry thought. In the last week alone, he had heard from Mr Weasley that three Order members had been killed whilst trying to find out some information. When they had found something that they thought they could use, they pounced on it, Harry reflected bitterly.

As usual, Voldemort had foreseen their plans and he had manipulated them.

_But he didn't manipulate me,_ Harry thought. _He didn't even see me coming when I destroyed those Horcruxes. And now there's only one left. _

Harry had had his own ideas for quite some time now about how he would lead the Order and what he would do, but it never crossed his mind to voice them because he had not the Ministry's respect.

_We need allies,_ he thought. _Hagrid might be able to persuade a few more giants, especially with Grawp. _

Voldemort would have an army hundreds strong, perhaps more, and at the moment, if the fight was brought to them, they were not ready.

Maybe they could use the Unspeakables in the Ministry to go 'underground' as Cassie had said, and find out who and how many Voldemort had recruited. Without that, they really were fighting blind on an empty tank.

Harry was not sure how long he sat there, except that he must have dozed off, as something woke him with a jolt, causing him to crick his neck.

_Tap … tap … crack …_

Someone was trying to break through!

His first instinct was to shout, "I'm in here!" but a thought crossed his mind that whoever was trying to get in was not the Order. A voice called out.

"Harry?" and it was a voice he knew.

"Yeah! I'm here … careful, though …"

"Stand back!"

Harry barely had time to move out of the way before a spell hit the rock from the other side and it finally gave way.

Cassie stood in the crumbling entrance, wand out and dirt streaked across her face.

"Thank Merlin!" she said, rushing forwards to meet him. "I didn't know if you'd … but you made it!"

"How did you find me?" Harry asked.

"The sweets act as a homing device and guide us to your location," Cassie explained. "I knew it was you because Fred told me that it'd spell out the name of the person in the air."

"And how many signals were there?" Harry ventured, not sure he wanted to know the answer.

Cassie's face darkened. "Twenty-one. We had to send out a message to St. Mungos for Healers on call: they're all here now."

"Ron and Hermione?"

"They're OK, I saw them being brought out. Remus has a concussion, they found Smith; he's dead. Kingsley and Moody are still missing."

She paused, as though deciding whether or not to tell him the worst news.

"There's eight accounted for – we think that they're the ones from your tunnel, but over thirty are missing, and it's only a matter of time before the missing toll becomes a death toll …"

Harry's mind flashed him a picture of the dead Auror. His heart told him that it had probably been Joe Ryan.

"Are you alright?" Cassie asked, eying his cut hands. "Need anything patching up?"

"No, I'm fine … I just want to help get people out."

"We need as much help as we can get, believe me. We've had two resuscitations –"

A crack overhead, a useless glance upwards, and then the ceiling collapsed.

- - - - -

The first thing that Harry realised was that he was still breathing, but it was hard work; his nose and mouth were filled with dust. He coughed, the effort wracking his ribs and sending spasms of pain up through his spine. He tried to open his eyes but one of them refused to obey. The one that did open felt scratchy and sore.

He was lying on his back and could not move his legs. For an agonising moment, he thought that he had been paralysed, but then his fingertips found something solid and he knew that the rock must have fallen on them.

He turned his heads gingerly and saw a hand; a girl's hand.

"Cass …" he whispered, but all the breath had been knocked out of him. "Cass …" Where was his wand?

_Okay … no wand. Improvise. Think._

His legs were hurting quite a bit and he knew that he had to get the rock off him, but could he do that without his wand? And Cassie … was she dead?

_Right. Pain is a feeling. Use it. _

He thought the incantation in his head furiously.

_Wingardium Leviosa!_

But nothing happened. The incantation wasn't enough. Harry closed his eyes and imagined he had his wand in his hand, trying to recollect the springy wooden texture beneath his fingers.

_Swish and flick … Wingardium Leviosa … swish and flick …_

Miraculously, one of the rocks began to move slowly upwards. Harry watched, unable to believe he had done it. The magic was weak, however, and the rock began to wobble before crashing to the ground again, but not before Harry had managed to free his body.

He sat up cautiously and pulled the rest of the rock off him. No broken bones perhaps, but a hell of a lot of bruising … and blood. Harry caught sight of his wand, sandwiched between the rock and the wall. He scrambled over to it.

"_Lumos," _Harry whispered.

He saw there was hardly anything left of the ceiling; just an inky blackness above.

There was movement behind him. Harry turned and saw, with a massive relief, that Cassie was stirring.

He stumbled over to her and dropped to his knees.

"Cassie!"

Her face was scratched and bruised. At first she appeared to be disorientated, but when she opened her eyes and saw she was pinned down by slabs of rock, her face grew panicked.

"Harry … can you get me out … please get me out!"

"It's OK," Harry said as calmly as he could. "I've got my wand, you'll be OK …"

But Cassie began to thrash her arms. Harry saw that her eyes were wide with terror. Was she claustrophobic?

"No, I won't … please … Harry, get it off!" she pleaded, her voice rising to a scream. The calm, logical Auror in her was gone, and fear of being crushed was paralysing her. She started to sob.

Harry raised his wand and shifted the heavy slabs as quickly as he could.

"Please … I can't breathe …"

She was hyperventilating. Harry did his best to stay focussed because there was nothing restricting her air, but her irrational fear in itself was frightening.

When he had finally shifted the last slabs of rock, Cassie hauled herself upwards, tears streaking her face, and threw her arms around Harry's neck.

"I can't breathe … I can't!" she whispered over and over again into his shoulder. She was shaking.

Harry held her, a little bewildered. "Yes, you can … it's off, I promise it's off."

But she did not relax. Harry drew her away, holding her arms, and forced her to look at him.

"Cassie, look at me. You can breathe, OK? There's no rock on you."

She looked at him. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure," Harry said with a small smile. "Are you hurt?" he asked, trying to bring her attention back to something she knew.

"I don't … I don't know. My fingers might be broken … and my back feels bad, I think …"

"Yeah, mine too," Harry said. "Listen, you sit over here," he said, standing her up gently; there was an area over to the back that was relatively rock free. The archway was completely gone.

"Try not to move too much. We can sort ourselves out when I've had a look around."

She nodded, wincing.

Harry moved gingerly around the cave, limping slightly, one eye closed. It was like something from a Muggle disaster movie: much of the dust had settled but it was still a complete minefield of danger.

They had thankfully not been standing under the worst hit part where most of the ground had crumbled to reveal water below. The only way out seemed to be above their heads, but it was such a long way up.

Harry limped back towards Cassie, thinking if she could fix him up a bit he might be able to make some kind of upward transport with a spell.

As he walked, he noticed something dripping on to the ground. Was it water perhaps, from above? No, it was darker than that. It was … blood.

All of a sudden, Harry felt a stinging pain in the region of his collarbone. He raised a hand, confused, to see what was there. A scratch, maybe? But the drip was becoming more persistent. As he stood there, watching the drip, it began to pool in front of him. When he withdrew his hand, it was wet and warm, and bright red.

_That's strange, _he thought. _You'd have thought I'd have noticed._

And then the world went black.

- - - - -

Harry awoke to find Cassie leaning over him, her wand gently touching his collarbone. His whole neck area felt numb and cold but the odd stinging sensation was gone. His mouth felt rough and dry.

"Hi," she said softly. Her face was grey and her lips drawn, but the panic was gone from her face.

Harry sat up. "What happened?"

"You must have nicked an artery when the rock fell … you lost a lot of blood. That's why you fell."

"And is it –"

"– I fixed it. But I haven't got much strength left and it takes a lot to Heal things …"

She looked in pain. Harry realised she had tended to him and in so doing, rendered herself incapable to ease her own pain.

"Thanks," Harry muttered. "You shouldn't have …"

"Yes, I should. You would have probably bled to death."

She stretched her legs and leant against the wall next to Harry.

"I've sent red sparks up through the ceiling. Maybe someone will see, if … if they get through," she said faintly, sounding unconvinced.

"I'll try again in a bit," Harry said, thinking that his signal would probably be a little stronger than hers.

"I'm sorry about earlier," she said quietly. "It's just … I don't … I don't like feeling trapped."

"That's OK. I don't reckon anyone does."

Cassie nodded and seemed to be deciding to tell him something. She looked at the floor.

"My mum was a Muggle," she said slowly. "She was a rock climber. One day she took my little brother with her, but they got trapped inside the cliff. My brother was just starting to learn magic and he tried to blast them a way out … the whole cave collapsed. They were both crushed."

"I'm sorry," Harry said softly.

Cassie shook her head and wiped away an angry tear. "It was a long time ago."

"Still, must have been hard for you to come up here," Harry said. "And I'm grateful that you did. Else I'd probably be dead."

"Or you might have gotten out before the ceiling collapsed. Neither of us can move much and I don't think anyone's coming …"

"We'll be OK," Harry said positively, though he didn't feel it. He was shocked to see Cassie so defeated; perhaps the memory of her mother had wrought a change in her.

"I didn't think it would end this way," she said softly, half-asleep. The cold was overpowering.

"End?" Harry answered, his teeth chattering. "It doesn't end here. I've still got a Dark Wizard to finish off, haven't I?"

He wanted to close his eyes and rest, but he knew he mustn't. What if more of the rock fell?

Cassie was still shivering. Harry's instinct was to put his arms around her, but something was holding him back, and in any case, she had gotten closer.

"You said this mission was a mistake," she said quietly.

"I did," he replied.

"Why didn't they listen to you?"

"Maybe they will now."

There was a pause. He could see how long her eyelashes were at this distance.

"Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"Thanks for getting me out before."

She touched his cheek. Her hand was still soft. Why was there a ringing in his ears?

"That's … that's OK …"

And suddenly she kissed him, a tear still clinging to her eyelashes. Harry's heart was thumping and he didn't move a muscle. Everything that had happened before and now this had completely blindsided him. Her lips were soft and she was still shaking, but she drew back after a second.

Harry wondered briefly what it would feel like to run his hands through her soft hair … but it was the wrong colour. It wasn't red.

_What the hell am I doing!_

He had been imagining Ginny's hair and Ginny's lips … but this wasn't her. This was a frightened girl seeking comfort that he could not give.

Harry pulled back quickly.

"Cassie … I can't."

She blinked and looked away, as though she had just woken up.

"Oh … God, I'm so sorry …"

"No, don't be, it's OK –"

"– no, I shouldn't have … it's just I …"

"I understand, it's fine, don't apologise."

There was an awkward pause. Cassie moved back slightly.

"God, I feel like such an idiot," she said sadly, more to herself than to Harry. "I mean, I _knew _you were with Ginny …"

"Come on, it doesn't matter," Harry said, his thoughts still on Ginny. "I'll let you off seeing as this is an exceptional impending death situation."

The corners of her mouth twitched and Harry grinned awkwardly.

"Don't get me wrong," Harry went on. "I think you're great and everything, it's just I …"

"You're in love. I get it."

Harry nodded slowly. It was true; he did love Ginny Weasley and he wished she was with him at that moment. It wasn't Cassie's fault; maybe he had given off the wrong signals without knowing it. What would Ginny say?

"All I can say is she's a lucky girl," Cassie said with a smile. "You're a faithful guy, Harry."

"No, I'm the lucky one," Harry replied. "I'd be even luckier if … if we could be mates," he ventured.

"Of course," she said. "If we ever get out of here, that is."

Then a voice rang out from above. Harry and Cassie looked up instantly.

"_Anyone down there?"_ it said, extremely faintly and with a thousand echoes.

"YES!" they bellowed together.

"_We're sending a Portkey down! How many are there?"_

"Two!" Harry yelled, his throat screaming.

"_Any dead?" _The question was phrased casually, and Harry had the impression that it had been asked a lot in the past couple of hours.

"No."

There was a pause and Harry helped Cassie to her feet. Moments later a dusty bucket descended eerily from above, like a strange, plastic angel. Harry had never been so glad to get out of such a godforsaken place.

"_OK? It'll get you out!"_

"Thanks!"

Harry looked at Cassie and saw that her face had brightened. He felt elation inside him. _They were saved._

"Ready to get out of here?" he said.

"Definitely."

They limped towards where the bucket had come to a halt, resting on the rock.

"One … two … three."

- - - - -

* * *

**A/N: **Gah! I know that was a bit of a marathon, and I ask again … are you still reading? I commend you if you are!

OK … I'm going to defend Cassie before you guys eat her heart out – for me, it was necessary for Harry to have someone interested in him, however blatantly/innocently, for him to TRULY know he loves Ginny. It therefore means there is NO ONE else in the world. K?

Despite that little ditty … questions, comments, anything? Pretty please?

Rosie


	35. The Head of the Table

_**MARKED

* * *

**_

_He knew somehow, without needing to see the terror in _

_Snape's face, that it was all over.

* * *

_

**THIRTY-FIVE: The Head of the Table**

Being brought out of the cave into the open air was a blurry experience when Harry looked back on it hours later. By the time he and Cassie had surfaced in front of three anxious looking Healers, the sky had darkened considerably, which indicated how much time had passed since they had been trapped. It was impossible to believe that it had been that same morning that they had left for the mission.

The Healers peered at Harry and Cassie cautiously before conjuring stretchers out of nowhere. The moment Harry lay down, he felt uncontrollably weary and felt his eyelids becoming heavy.

"Have … have you got any others out?" he mumbled to the Healer who was levitating his stretcher in front of him.

The Healer glanced down at him, exhaustion etched on his lined face.

"Just rest now, Mr Potter, you've had quite an ordeal. We can talk about this when we've patched you up."

Harry tried to open his mouth to argue, to say that he was fine, that he wanted to help, but his muscles wouldn't obey him. As he closed his eyes, he did his best to imagine that Ginny was lying there with him, holding his hand with her small, delicate fingers. But the image faded, and before long he could see nothing at all.

- - - - -

Harry awoke to find himself restricted by bandages of some sort, bound tightly around his neck and shoulder area. His eyes were still sore, but he could make out the dim outline of a makeshift tent, somewhere presumably erected on the hillside close to the cliff. As he turned his head he saw many beds lined up next to him, some with Aurors still in their red and blue robes. As he looked closer he could see the shape of someone sitting at his bedside, their bushy hair falling over their face as they slept.

"Hermione?" he whispered groggily.

She jerked awake, her brown eyes reflecting in the firelight left by the burning candles hanging from the cloth ceiling.

"Harry! Oh, Harry!"

She reached for his hand and squeezed it.

"Where's Ron?"

Hermione turned her head. "Over there," she pointed. "He's fine, just had a dislocated shoulder. They mended it in a second."

Harry went to sit up, ignoring the screaming pain in his whole body, but Hermione pushed him back firmly in the chest. "No, they said you have to stay still for a few hours so all your bones can reset."

"My bones?" Harry said, surprised.

"Yes, you're quite a state, you know. You ought to look in the mirror … those are impressive bruises."

"You've got a few yourself," he said, nodding to her black eye. "What the hell happened?"

Hermione's face darkened. "Well, quite simply, it was a complete sham, just like you said it would be. We were lucky; our tunnel sloped down after we got so far in, so the water took longer to rise. Moody heard the water before any of us and you know him, _constant vigilance_ and all that, so he … he told us to go."'

"And?"

Hermione hesitated, tears glistening in her eyes. "They … oh, Harry, they found him."

"They found Moody?" he asked, an iron fist threatening to clutch at his heart.

"He's … he's dead, Harry."

Silence. There was no shock, only numbness; a grimly cold knowledge that another person who he had cared about, who had been a good Auror if not the best, was dead.

How could this be happening? Moody was dead; the person who had been in charge of the Order was dead.

Harry nodded slowly, accepting what Hermione had just said, letting the words penetrate him deeply instead of washing over him.

"Kingsley?"

Hermione sniffed and wiped her eye. "They brought him out; he's … he's still alive, but there's a lot of un-repairable damage … well, un-repairable by magic. But, you know. There's always hope …"

"Lupin?"

"He's OK. He's sleeping. Ron said that they all heard it at exactly the same time and headed back quickly, but their tunnel sloped upwards, so the water came more quickly. Lupin got hit on the head by the rock, and … they lost quite a few in that tunnel."

_By lost, you mean dead._

"So what are the numbers?" Harry asked, his voice a little stronger.

Hermione signed, rubbing her eyes. "There's a death toll now …"

"I thought there might be."

"It's risen to thirty-seven. Cuttings lost nine Aurors and two scouts, the Americans lost the most. Smith's dead, Sloane is still missing I think … oh, Harry, it's such a big mess … it's such a waste!"

"I know."

They sat in silence for another few moments. Hermione cleared her throat before long.

"There was a woman in your tunnel, do you remember?" she said tentatively.

"Yeah," Harry replied.

"Her name is Amelia. Well, she told me that you … you stayed after you told them all to go. She … she said that you held off the water long enough to give some of them time to escape."

Harry said nothing.

"Is that true?"

He nodded slowly, meeting her wide eyes.

Hermione uttered a small gasp. "Harry, that water was like … Niagara Falls powerful. Not even _Dumbledore_ would have had the strength to stem that for long. How on earth did you stop it?"

Harry shrugged, biting his lip, not registering the comparison with Dumbledore. "I dunno. I just … I concentrated and I … I kind of knew that I could if … if I focussed everything in the right direction."

"People who survived are all talking about it, you know. Some of them can't believe you held it for seconds, let alone minutes."

"Yeah well, if they're so impressed with me, maybe they should have all tried listening to me when I told them to leave when we had the bloody chance," Harry snapped, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice as he said what was on his mind. "And now nearly forty people are dead."

"They're calling it the biggest loss of the war," Hermione said quietly.

Harry sighed and slumped back on to his pillows. He could almost see Voldemort directly in front of his face, laughing with glee, the slit-like nostrils dilated with excitement, but he knew it was only his imagination because when he looked up all that he could see was the canvas ceiling.

"He'd planned it all, right down to the last moment," Harry said aloud as Hermione listened, though it wasn't as if he was telling her this; almost like he was simply saying it because it was true: because it needed to be said.

"He'd been tipped off in those few hours it took to visit Azkaban and he'd seen the opportunity. I bet he hadn't even wagered on killing this many …"

_The best Aurors,_ he thought. Forty of the best in the world were gone. Snuffed out like a candle in the dark. Executed.

"Harry … people are looking lost," Hermione went on in the same timid voice, as though unsure whether or not she should be saying the words. "There's no … there's no leader any more. I mean, Moody was only filling in for the Order, but we saw Cuttings … he looked like a child without his mother. The American Minister arrived about an hour ago, and he just looked … shocked."

"And what about Scrimgeour?"

"He hasn't shown, predictably. No word whatsoever."

Harry nodded. "It's worse than before. When Dumbledore was alive … Voldemort was testing the waters, seeing what he could get away with. Now, it's like he's trying to eliminate everything."

It was really happening, he thought to himself. Now Dumbledore was gone, the only person Voldemort had ever realistically considered a threat, he had a completely free rein. Moody was dead, the Order would surely crumble without a proper leader. Harry thought fleetingly of contacting McGonagall, but that was out of the question. She would surely be needed at Hogwarts.

"Have … have you heard what happened in the other countries?" Hermione said, her voice wavering.

Harry sat up slightly. "What?"

"It was worse in America. I think Voldemort thought that they'd be distracted; there were hits all over the country. Lots of wizards died, some Muggles too. It happened in Germany and Italy as well; they want answers, obviously."

Harry swore. _It's like a bad dream._

"It won't stop," he said seriously. "Now that he's got everyone on the run, panicking, that's when he's going to strike the worse."

"Harry …" Hermione whispered, squeezing his hand tighter. "What on earth are we going to do?"

Harry winced and sat up as best he could. "If we don't do something soon, he's going to have the entire world in his bloody pocket."

Hermione nodded. "So …"

"So, like you said. The Order needs a leader, and it looks like the whole Ministry could do with some orders, too."

"What are you going to do?" she asked in almost a whisper, as Harry reached for his wand.

"I'm going to fight back."

- - - - - -

After seventy-two hours, the search was called off in Scotland. Only five more were recovered from the cliffside alive, the rest were brought out in bags. Harry was to be found a week later sitting at the head of the table at Order Headquarters in Kingsley's house. The people sitting on the other five chairs, some with their translators behind them were, by their own standards, very important people, and yet Harry was at the head.

"Thank you for meeting with me," he said in a clear voice. "I realise that it might seem odd, having a meeting with me and not someone with more authority, but –"

The Spanish Minister muttered something in rapid Spanish to his translator.

"Minister Don Quiroz wishes to know why it is you addressing us and not Mr Scrimgeour."

Harry turned his head to Rufus Scrimgeour, who was sitting closest to him. Scrimgeour fiddled with his beard, his eyes unfocussed and lines etched into his face.

The question took Harry's mind back instantly to the exchange he had had the day before with Scrimgeour. The Minister had Apparated outside Headquarters without any warning after no one had heard anything from him since the mission.

"Crawled out from underneath your bed, have you?" Harry had spat viciously, though he felt he should exhibit no surprise at this behaviour; after all, Fudge had been no better.

But it seemed that Scrimgeour had not the strength to even inject his answer with venom. He spoke dispiritedly, as though he had already given over his power.

"There's no need for scorn, Potter. All I need do is look around me to see what a mess this country is in. No, my absence has nothing to do with cowardice, take my word for it or not. I have been making some serious decisions in the past day."

"So that's it, is it?" Harry had replied. "While the country's been running for cover in terror, you've been _thinking_?"

"It is clear that last week's catastrophic mission was the result of a severe lack of understanding. I am told that you indeed stated you believed the information Lucius Malfoy gave to be a plant."

Harry had clapped his hands sarcastically. "Brilliant, Minister."

"Harry, I know I am a proud man," Scrimgeour had said seriously, taking Harry by surprise by using his first name. "And I see now that I may have over-compensated for Fudge's … mildness. But I am admitting that …"

"What? What exactly are you trying to say?"

"That I … I am no longer than man for the job. I know it's asking a great deal after all that you have been through with the Ministry, but I, and many others, believe it is time that you come in and make a few changes. No conditions."

Harry had taken a step back at this. It seemed surreal; he was being asked by the leader of the country to take over in the fight for good over evil.

Nevertheless, he had nodded grimly. "OK. I'll make a few changes. But I'm not going to come to the Ministry. The Ministry is going to come to me."

And Scrimgeour had left that night, explaining that he would be setting up a meeting with the leaders of other significant wizarding countries to explain how the situation had changed. Now, as they sat in the dim light of Kingsley's house, Scrimgeour looked straight at the Spanish Minister and gave him the answer.

"I have not the respect of our resources any more. Mr Potter does."

This was perfectly true: news had travelled far and wide about Harry's role in the debacle of the week before; how he had stated he believed the mission to be rogue, how he had held off water travelling at over a hundred miles an hour, and now how he had stood up to Scrimgeour and told him that the Ministry needed to make some changes.

There were uncertain glances from one Minister to the other, before all eyes resumed once again on Harry, who inhaled sharply to continue.

"As I'm sure you've heard, there is an unclassified group in Britain dedicated to stopping Lord Voldemort and his followers known as the Order of the Phoenix."

There were curt nods.

"Our leader was killed in the raid of last week –"

"– and does this mean that _you _are now heading the operation?" asked the German translator after the German Minister hissed something guttural into his ear.

Before he had lost some friends, before good Aurors had been killed, Harry would have hesitated when asked this question. But now, as he had seen quite clearly over the last couple of days, there was only one thing to be done.

"Yes, it does," Harry said.

The French Minister raised his eyebrows. Harry ignored him.

"After what happened in Scotland, it's become pretty clear that we do not know enough about Voldemort's operation; we don't have enough of a clear idea about numbers, what weapons he'll be using or what creatures. Thanks to Mr Scrimgeour here –"

Scrimgeour grimaced painfully in what appeared to be an attempt at a humble expression.

"– the Ministry has granted the Order access to the Unspeakables."

Many of the translators muttered quickly to their Ministers, no doubt explaining what Unspeakables were.

"After going Underground, they've been doing their job well and reporting back over the last couple of days. They're going to be seeing how much they can find out for the next week or so, but they've already given us some worrying news."

Harry paused before saying what he knew he must, saying what had almost given him a heart attack the day before.

"We believe that Voldemort has followers of up to eight times as many than we do."

The French Minister swore in French.

"_Eight _times?" said the American Minister, Mr Kenyon. "How d'you know that?"

"The Unspeakables are very good at what they do," Harry said simply. In truth, he didn't know exactly how they had found out the statistics; he had simply stated that the world depended on the knowledge of knowing what they were up against and that, at the moment, there was nothing more important. "They're trained to spy and be invisible. On top of that, we've been able to question some of the Death Eaters already in custody."

"Like you did zee last time?" said the French Minister nastily in perfect English but with a heavy accent.

Harry narrowed his eyes. "With respect, Mr Chardonelle, they weren't expecting this, as Mr Malfoy had been. We asked them questions of the like that they might not have been forbidden to speak about, like who Voldemort's favourites are, some spells he uses, that kind of thing. Nothing as obvious as 'where are your HQ.'"

The Italian Minister sat forward slightly. The translators had been forgotten.

"So, you ask for … what, exactly, Mister Potter?"

"Well, here in Britain, our Auror force, including the Order of the Phoenix, doesn't exceed two hundred and fifty, and that's including those not fully trained. If we take the Unspeakable's information at face value, that means we're facing an army of roughly sixteen-hundred Death Eaters."

Silence.

"And zat is … not including vatever – _beasts_ – this 'Lord' is using?" asked the German Minister.

Harry shook his head. "We're working on that. I've got somebody assessing the Giant situation –"

By this, Harry was referring to Hagrid, who had been in touch to say that he was currently hiding out with Grawp in Poland and, unfortunately, that things did not look too promising.

"– and we should have a better idea of werewolf numbers," he added, thinking of Lupin, who had only the day before disappeared again 'underground.' "We've also recently made contact with a group of neutral goblins, who were prepared to investigate their own race for a good price."

"And where did that money come from?" asked Kenyon.

"The Ministry's piggy-bank," Harry said with a look to Scrimgeour.

The goblin situation had come to light when Scrimgeour had informed Harry that the Ministry was keeping a number of goblins in custody as they were 'under suspicion.' In truth, Scrimgeour admitted that the goblins were of no real threat and that the arrest had been made to heighten the Ministry's reputation. They had been released immediately.

Harry cleared his throat. "But what I need today, what _you _need to do today in the best interests of all your countries, is to agree to station as many of your Aurors as you can on standby, here in the UK."

There was an outbreak of disconcerted muttering.

"Why here?"

"Because this is where the battle will happen," Harry said simply. "I understand that you want to protect your own country and keep your Aurors, but seriously, the best thing that you can do is help us here now to end it once and for all."

Kenyon inclined his head slightly, his grey hair reflecting in the candle light. "How many Aurors were you thinking, Mr Potter?"

"Well, as I said, I understand that you want to keep some in your own countries, so I'd suggest we have three hundred –"

"– _three hundred?"_

"– from _each _country stationed here on high alert. Even then we'll be outnumbered."

The French Minister threw his hands up in despair. Scrimgeour had had to go through various back channels to keep this meeting out of the papers; it would be better, as Harry had agreed, if the plan of action that they decided on didn't become public knowledge.

"Meester Potter," drawled Chardonelle. "What you are suggesting ees impossible! Vee are aware of your Dark Lord situation in Francais, but I cannot see 'ow zis _war_ you 'ave engaged in affects my country!"

Harry let out a dry laugh, but it was entirely humourless.

"C'mon, Chardonelle, America lost lives in this war. You can't say that it isn't of huge importance?" spat Kenyon.

Harry shook his head. "Minister, are you honestly telling me that you're starting to believe the made-up stories that you tell yourself when you go to sleep every night?"

"Now see 'ere, _petit_ _garcon_ –"

"It's only a matter of time before he's knocking on your door. In case you haven't noticed, France is rather close to England."

"I will _NOT _be spoken to by a child like zis!" said the French Minister. The translator was glaring daggers towards the head of the table.

The American Minister shook his head sharply. "He's no child, sir. Have you not heard what Mr Potter has done? What he _tried _to do to stop the mission of last week? How he saved countless lives in those tunnels?"

"Yes, but –"

"– or maybe you didn't read the headlines about Germany and Italy. Do you still think that it doesn't affect your country?"

Chardonelle fell silent. It appeared that he had not counted on being shouted down by another Minister as well.

"Look," Harry said, his eyes flickering back and forth to all the people at the table. "I'm not trying to pretend I'm an experienced leader, or that I'm trying to be the youngest Minister for Magic. But I do know Voldemort. What we've learned over the last few days …we can use it, don't you see? We can use it _against _him. Tyrants everywhere like him never think that they're destructible. But they _are._ _He _is. And if we don't fight back, he's going to take over the world, and by the time he's finished, you won't even have a chance to tell me that you're sorry and that I was right."

Kenyon nodded. "I can get you three hundred Aurors in three days, Potter."

"Thank you."

"As can I," said the Italian Minister.

Harry looked to the German Minister. "I vill see vat I can do."

Finally, the French Minister, who was still scowling, rubbed his eyes. "I can make you no promises, Meester Potter. I do not pretend to be unfamiliar with your story, but vat you ask me is very great."

"I know," Harry replied. "But if we don't do something drastic like this, then we'll all either be dead, or worse."

The French Minister pursed his lips. "I can get two 'undred by zee end of zee week. Any more zan zat and … I do not know."

Harry nodded, satisfied for the moment that they had all taken him more or less seriously.

"Their journeys can't be publicised. I don't want the enemy knowing what we're doing. When they get here, they can stay …"

"… at a number of Ministry safe-houses stationed around the country. I will make sure that they are easily accessible and contactable. There is room for quarters and training," Scrimgeour said. He appeared to be much more convincing, much more commanding, now Harry was in charge.

"That's another thing," said Harry, something coming to him suddenly. "They need to be training every day, no excuses. They need to keep up with combat training and they need to be ready to be called upon with little or no notice."

"Of course," said Kenyon. "American Aurors wouldn't do things any other way."

"Glad to hear it," said Harry. He flicked his wand and a sheet of paper that had been resting on the shelf a few metres away fluttered down in front of him. "Make sure that they can use all of these spells."

Harry scribbled furiously down every spell that he could remember the Death Eaters using on him and his friends, and every spell that had helped him out of some scrape or another. He also jotted down two curses that Snape had taught him, neither of them Ministry approved.

"Can we be assured that _your _Aurors will be doing the same thing?" said Don Quiroz.

Harry blinked, registering how Quiroz had said _your Aurors._ _Well, who else's were they? _Cuttings had resigned first thing in the morning after the raid, muttering something about being inadequate.

"Yes, you can."

- - - - -

"So, how did it go?" came a voice from the shadows as Harry shut the door to his room after emerging from the dining room some time later.

"Ah, it was …"

Harry turned sharply, expecting to see Hermione standing there with her hands on her hips, but it was not Hermione.

It was Ginny.

"Gin!" he exclaimed in utter surprise as she moved forwards slightly into the candlelight. "What are you … what are you doing here?"

"Some woman called Amelia let me in. Mum and Dad haven't seen me yet. It's the weekend, remember?" she said wryly. "Are you so caught up in politics now that you don't even know what day it is?"

Had Harry not been able to see her expression, he may have thought that this was a slight dig, but the corners of her mouth were twitching.

"It's been nearly two months since we last saw each other," she said a little more quietly. "Did you forget?"

"Forget?" Harry said, startled. "How could I forget when I count every single day you're not here?"

Ginny smiled, the sparkle in her eyes lighting up her whole face. She was dressed in dark green, a long skirt falling lightly from her hips. As he took appearance in, Harry felt a warm glow spread through his whole body. He had never wanted to see someone more.

"So … you're not angry that I'm here, then?" she said slowly. "Thinking that there are little spies hiding behind the cutlery draw waiting to run and tell Lord Chuckles that you and I are _dating_?"

Harry shook his head. "Gin, you were the last person that I wanted to see."

Ginny's eyes widened as he spoke, but it was true. Seeing her again had opened up a dam in his chest, a dam that he could not stem and would surely make doing what he had to do all the more difficult if he was thinking about her all the time, which he knew he would do. How could he not?

He reached out and stroked the red hair falling onto her cheek. "And you were the _only _person that I wanted to see."

"Really?"

Harry nodded as he sat down on the edge of his bed. "You have no idea how many times I wanted to contact you and tell you to come."

"Then why didn't you?"

"You know I couldn't."

"But it's different now, though, isn't it? I mean you're in charge now, aren't you? It's not like you're completely operating in secret like before."

Harry frowned slightly. "No, I suppose not. But I'm still not convinced that you popping in and out is such a good idea."

Ginny was silent for a moment. She looked so … so grown up, Harry thought.

"How long can you stay?" Harry asked her.

"Only tonight. Mum and Dad will want me back at school as soon as possible; they won't want me to stay here." She snorted. "But it's not like here's any more dangerous than anywhere else, is it?"

Harry raised his eyebrows. "No, I guess not."

"When I heard about that mission going wrong …" she said in a shaky voice.

"I'm sorry it took so long for the messages to get through. It was just chaos, you know."

Ginny nodded. "Harry, I was so scared that I'd lost you."

"Well, you haven't," Harry said softly, reaching out and taking her small, delicate hand in his. "I'm right here."

Ginny moved forwards and sat down lightly on Harry's knee so she was looking straight into his eyes. "Everyone's talking about it, you know. About what you did, with that water."

"Are they?" Harry said evasively.

"Mm. They're all saying you must be really powerful to stop that, and that you're now in charge. People are calling you the saviour."

"Uh huh? And what do you say?"

"Well, I tell them that if they think you're that tough then they ought to see your Pygmy Puff tattoo."

"Hey!" Harry exclaimed, pulling her back with him into the softness of the pillows.

They lay in silence for a few seconds before Ginny whispered into Harry's ear as he stroked her hair.

"So, is this it, then? You're in charge? Until it's over?"

"Until it's over."

Ginny exhaled. Harry could feel her warm breath tickling his neck. "When do you think that's going to be?"

"I don't know," he answered half-truthfully. Realistically something inside him told him that it would not be long before Voldemort decided that Harry in charge was a bad idea and could not take root; it was just a question of how many people he would make pay for it.

Harry pulled Ginny a little closer to him, breathing in her flowery perfume and the scented shampoo. "Listen, can I be the 'non-marked-one' for a little while?"

Ginny grinned at him. "Certainly," she said as she kissed him.

Harry wrapped his arms around her small frame and returned her kiss, trying to imagine for these few precious moments that they were the only two people in love in the world, and that nothing was going to spoil it.

- - - - -

"Well, well, well. Do you still plan to exclaim that you do not like being the centre of attention, Potter?" said Snape the next day after he had sent Harry a de-codable letter with a blackbird that had burst into flames seconds after he had received it.

Harry stared at him. "So Voldemort knows that I'm calling the shots?" he asked concernedly. His plan was to keep as much of their movements secret as possible.

Snape nodded slowly. "You need not worry about his knowledge of your actions … yet. But you may wish to educate your 'Unspeakables' on the subject of _stealth._ I saw two skulking around the other day; it is only a matter of time before they are all caught and killed."

Harry frowned at Snape. "And you're still telling me that you can't give me any information about Voldemort?"

Snape scowled at Harry, a sneer suffusing his pallid face. "We have had this discussion, Potter; do you need your ears cleaning out? Any information I give you, in whatever form, will be traced. The Dark Lord tells me things that only I will know. If you suddenly parade it about with all the subtlety you possess – _none, _that is – then he will know it was I who tipped you off."

"I bet that makes you feel real special," Harry snapped, annoyed that Snape was speaking so obviously, like Harry was stupid or something. Then again, _what's new, _he thought.

"Indeed. But it works both ways, Potter. Anything you tell me is liable to be forced out of me at any given time."

"I thought you were too good at Occlumency for that kind of thing to happen," Harry said sourly.

Snape frowned. "Perhaps," he said slowly. "But the Dark Lord is becoming more and more suspicious, especially now he is so close to a complete takeover. He trusts nothing and no one. Needless to say, this is not good news for anyone."

Harry sat down on the edge of a headstone and rubbed his eyes, not even having the energy to resume his normal glaring of Snape.

"This is so messed up," Harry said, more to himself to Snape.

Snape snorted. "I do not have time to listen to this; you think I come here for my health? Or that I have time to listen to the teenage angst you project so proudly?"

"Why don't you just f –"

"I come here for one thing and one thing only. To hand you unique weapons. And may I remind you that I am risking my own neck on several levels to do this."

"Yeah? Well maybe you've handed me enough weapons for one day," Harry said sharply, his temper finally getting the better of him. He was not going to sit here and be abused by Snape like he was a child in school again when everyone else was depending on him to save the world.

"You think so?" said Snape softly. "You think you have learnt everything you need to know to defeat the most powerful Dark wizard of all time in four meetings with your previous Potions master?"

Harry stood up.

"Yeah. I think I might just have done that."

Snape smiled grimly. "Very well," he said.

He reacted so fast that Harry only just had time to raise his arm. Snape had shot a Paralysing spell straight at Harry's torso; Harry could tell because of the wrist movement Snape had made and, although he had not uttered a single word, the split-second blue glow from Snape's wand told Harry that the counter spell was needed before it hit him.

"Nonmentum!" he spat, slashing his wand and deflecting Snape's powerful spell away towards the mausoleum ten yards away.

Even as the blue light spun away, Snape had raised his wand again. He slashed left, right and diagonally. Horrified, Harry realised that it was a very painful curse that he had been informed Voldemort often used along with Cruciatus to torture people: _Afflicto. _

For a second, Harry's brain had not worked out the shield charm needed, and the spell was zooming towards him as he thought, but at the last second, he recollected that a simple Protego would suffice.

The spell knocked him back slightly so that he staggered, but he managed to stop the most painful after-effect.

He had expected to see Snape sneering, but he saw that the man wore an expression of sheer concentration; it was taking him a great deal of effort to continue attacking after Harry's deflections.

_It's all about mind power, Potter,_ he had said in their last meeting. _Without adding to the existing arrogance you carry around with you, it is clear that you do have power. Your inability to use it incorrectly is what makes you so mediocre. _

Harry had, as ever, opened his mouth at this point to retaliate, but Snape had cut him off.

_Use your mind. It can be as powerful as your magic. If your mind wishes to stop me, then your magic will follow._

Now, standing in front of Snape as he raised his arm for another attack, Harry thought one word in his head.

_Stop._

He thrust his arm out powerfully before him, as Snape was doing feet away, but he knew in his mind that he could make him stop.

Snape's arm became rigid. His expression was unfathomable.

Harry thought with all his powers of concentration of the spell most appropriate for the moment.

_Levicorpus!_

Snape's legs were suddenly hoisted above his head and he shot into the air. He was not suspended comically for any amount of time as Ron had been all that time ago in their dormitory or indeed as Snape himself had been almost thirty years ago. Instead, he did a kind of flip in mid-air and then crashed to the ground.

Harry lowered his wand after taking in a few deep breaths and walked towards Snape who was getting to his feet, panting slightly.

Harry could not help it; he smirked as Snape looked at him, savouring what was possibly the first, and last time ever, he would get one over like this on the man who had made most of his school life hell. Snape's eyes were narrowed and Harry kept his wand clutched in his fist lest Snape forget for a moment what side he was supposed to be on and simply kill Harry out of anger. But he did not.

In fact, all he did was straighten up, brush himself down slightly and say, "Touché."

Harry continued to smirk at him.

"Nevertheless, Potter, do not forget that as accomplished as I may be, I am no Dark Lord. He will have reflexes ten times faster, magic twenty times as stronger, and a personal wish to annihilate you thirty times more than I have."

Harry nodded. "Wow. That's quite a vendetta, then."

Snape scowled. "Do not expect me to praise you for what you ought to have learned by now anyway. I cannot foresee how the Dark Lord will come at you, nor exactly what spells he will use; therefore, you must _never _believe that you know his moves."

"I don't," Harry said.

Snape narrowed his eyes. "Please, Potter. The power you have has already blinded you into believing that you can outsmart him. Needless to say every single person in the world who has believed that has ended up in a body bag … or at least, parts of them have."

Harry shook his head and turned away. "No, you know what? This is where we're different. You'd go up against him with that attitude: like you know you're not good enough to beat him. And maybe I'm not, who knows. But I _believe _that I can."

"That is the sort of arrogance that will get you killed. And if you die, Potter, then we are all doomed to hell. Your selfishness –"

"– no, see, I don't think so. If I think now that he's probably going to have better spells than me and be ten times or whatever stronger than me, then he will be! There's no way that I'm going to be dragged kicking and screaming into the arena to do the best I can against him. I'm going to walk in there with my head held high and know that I can win, because I _believe _that I can. You might not, but I don't really care about that."

"What nonsense is this you are spouting?" Snape said without concern.

Harry swallowed. "It's something Dumbledore told me."

Snape stared at Harry sharply.

"Voldemort's always thinking about that bloody prophecy. But it doesn't matter anymore. Either way, one of us needs to die."

Snape was eyeing Harry as though he had never really seen him before. The moment Harry had mentioned Dumbledore, Snape had looked up, his eyes meeting Harry's, a spasm of pain flittering across his gaunt face.

"I guess it must have been quite important," Harry went on, something flaring up inside him once more. "Seeing as he knew he was going to die."

Snape snarled slightly, and then looked away as though he could not bear to discuss the subject with anyone, least of all Harry.

"It is all very well for us to be preparing," Snape said rather snappishly, "but all this depends on that damn snake."

Harry exhaled. He had almost forgotten about Nagini.

"Yeah, I'll get on it."

"I should hope so too, now you have all the resources in the _world_ available to you," Snape said with a trace of cynicism.

"What was I supposed to do?" Harry asked, firing up again. "Who else could have taken over and gotten things moving in the right way? Scrimgeour? Oh yeah, that would've been great: 'last week's mission was a tragedy, someone must pay for the deaths, let's lock up a few people.' In case you didn't notice, lots of people felt bad that they were stupid enough to not listen to me in the first place."

Snape moistened his lips with his tongue. "I have not seen the Dark Lord so jubilant since the Death Eaters broke out of Azkaban."

Harry nodded scornfully. "Fantastic, give me another visual, why don't you. Rub it in."

"I will not waste my breath by telling you that you ought to have made more of an effort to stop the needless waste of life; I am sure that you have managed to come to that conclusion yourself, even with your limited brain power."

"You –"

"– _quiet_!" Snape hissed. His face was suddenly tense, alarmed.

Harry looked around, confused, annoyed that he had been stopped in his tirade against Snape, but then he saw, quite clearly, what the problem was.

Behind the mausoleum, a clump of bushes shook violently; there had been someone hiding out in them; the noise had been too big for it to have been simply a squirrel or a rabbit.

Snape's eyes were darting back and forth, calculating. Then, he raised his wand and shot a spell towards the apparent disturbance. The spell missed its mark, but revealed that there was a figure cloaked in black scurrying away from the scene. There was something about the rodent like movement of the figure that told Harry he knew who it was.

Snape raced after the eavesdropper, taking aim once more, but Harry had already fired his spell at the gravestone directly in front of the man fleeing. It exploded with a bang and made him stop short, startled.

The figure turned around quickly and his hood fell back to reveal a balding head, rat-like features and squinty eyes, staring horrified at Snape and Harry.

Harry felt as though the bottom had dropped out of his stomach.

"You!" he exclaimed.

Pettigrew's face, although anxious, twisted into a deformed smile and he waved sinisterly at them with a shining silver hand: the one Harry had seen Voldemort reward him with that night he had brought his master back to life by sacrificing his own flesh.

Snape's panicked face contorted into rage and he fired a spell with a jet of green light, aiming to kill. But Pettigrew had already stepped into a sharp spin and Apparated.

For a split second, Harry and Snape stood in stunned silence. Then Snape turned sharply and grabbed Harry by the shoulders, shaking him slightly.

"You must leave. This instant. He will run to the Dark Lord –"

"– But he might not have heard anything …"

"He will have seen enough! When you return, you must not say a _word _to anyone, despite what has happened. There is a chance that it will not come to that …"

Snape was speaking extremely fast, his hands shaking and his face white.

"But …"

"Now do not argue with me for once, Potter, you must go! They will be here any second and you will die, go! _Go!"_

"What are you going to do?" Harry said, his mouth wide open and his breathing constricted. "If he knows … you'll … how will –"

"– I will have to leave, but that is not your concern. GO! You idiot child …"

Snape pushed Harry roughly away from him with some force and Harry staggered backwards. He knew somehow, without needing to see the terror in Snape's face, that it was all over. He _had _to get back, now.

Harry glanced for one last time at Snape, standing whitely mute against the sky, wand at the ready, before stepping swiftly into the feeling of tightly uncomfortable compression, and feeling his body leave the graveyard.

- - - - -

"_What!"_

"What's Snape going to do?"

Ron and Hermione were to be found staring anxiously at Harry moments later in the darkness of Kingsley's kitchen. Thankfully it was long after midnight, so those remaining residents at the Order Headquarters were in bed: Ginny had left that morning. Harry knew that even though he did not really have to answer to anyone anymore he would rather avoid questions.

Harry was pacing back and forth past the fireplace.

"I don't know … _how _did Wormtail know? How did the little rat know to follow Snape …?"

"I don't know, Harry, but … shouldn't we do something? I mean … if Snape's exposed, how are you going to learn?" Hermione asked, her face shining with anxiety.

"He said not to say anything," Harry said absent-mindedly.

"What, still?" Ron said incredulously. "He's not in charge anymore, Harry, you are. Do you think we should do something?"

Harry shook his head. "Like what? Try and convince the entire wizarding public that Snape's not a murderer? And what if he _isn't _exposed? That'd just tell Voldemort everything he needs to know."

"But it sounds as though there's not much he can do now except run," said Hermione. "We can't do anything to help him anyway, Ron. We don't even know where Voldemort's _real _Headquarters are!"

"Not yet, anyway," Ron said lowly.

Harry stopped pacing. "We wait," he said slowly. "There's nothing we can do. I've learnt everything I can from Snape."

"You think so?"

"Yeah. There's nothing more he can do for me now, anyway. He knew he was taking a big risk in the first place …"

"… and if Pettigrew was following him then Voldemort must have been suspicious anyway," said Hermione thoughtfully. "Oh God, Harry … that could have been so close! He might have caught you!"

"It _was_ close," Harry said. "I certainly wouldn't want to go charging in anywhere yet without knowing a bit more. Plus, were outnumbered at the moment, remember? Eight to one?"

Ron's face was a little white. "Hagrid's supposed to be coming in the morning. Maybe he'll have some good news."

"Maybe," Harry said, wholly unconvinced.

- - - - -

"HARRY!" came the great booming voice of someone Harry was longing to see.

"Hagrid!" he said, and allowed himself to be pulled into a bone-crushing bear hug by the Hogwarts gamekeeper. Ron and Hermione also had to endure Hagrid's affections, but by the grin on Hermione's face rather than a grimace, Harry could tell that she was glad to see him.

"Heard you was in charge now! I said, 'eh, that boy was always destined for great things!' Didn't I always say that?"

"Yes, Hagrid," Harry replied with a smile.

"I'm so proud o' you, 'Arry," Hagrid said, a little softer. "You'll make it righ', mark my words!"

There was a great deal of this kind of praise, which, far from raise Harry's morale, actually added to the already increasing pressure.

"Have you got any good news for me, Hagrid?" Harry asked some time later.

Hagrid's face darkened slightly. "S'not all good news, I'm afraid. Me and Grawp … well, we tried our luck out in Poland, seein' as how me and Olympe 'adn't bin there before."

"And?"

"Same story as before. Stinkin' Death Eaters got there before we did. Mind you, havin' me brother there helped some …"

"Really?"

"Yeh, jus' a bloke like me on me own, migh' notta made much difference. But with Grawp … they did double takes like, thought maybe we mighta bin part o' another group."

Ron folded his arms. "So what happened?"

Hagrid sighed. "Well … they 'eard 'bout … 'bout Dumbledore dyin', but it didn't help much, see, cos any who were thinkin' about joinin' think it's all over now."

Harry sat down in the nearest couch feeling the tenseness increase in his shoulders. "So no joy?"

"Well, there was _one _little valley we found. No Death Eaters; we reckon they left it cos some o' the giants were a bit smaller than some, but still we got to speak."

"And?" Hermione asked.

"Convinced a few," Hagrid said with a wry smile. "Grawp did most o' the talkin', funny that, innit? Anyway, I got six to come with us."

"Six?" Harry repeated dully. He had really hoped for more.

"Yep, brought 'em back with us –"

"You _brought _them back? How on earth …?" Hermione began.

"With a bit 'o help from me old umbrella," Hagrid said with a twinkle in his eye. "They're stayin' in the Forest. Centaurs aren't too happy, but since when had they bin happy 'bout anythin'? Told the Headmistress … she seemed to want to not know about. Not sure why …"

Harry was perfectly able to believe that McGonagall didn't want to know the details of how six fifteen foot giants were living in the Forbidden Forest metres away from the students.

"Six. OK, that's … that's good. It's better than nothing. Thanks, Hagrid. You've done a great job."

"There's more, Harry," Hagrid said a little more seriously. "Those who didn't come with us … well, they told us why."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Oh yes?"

"Yeh. Apparently, Voldemort's got about twenty giants on his side already in the country. Bin causing havoc everywhere … you musta' read some o' it in the papers."

Harry vividly recalled the headline the say before:

**_Nine Muggles Killed in Dark Lord's Murderously Giant Campaign. Residents Are Advised To Stay Indoors._**

"Twenty …" Harry repeated under his breath. "Well, it could be worse."

"How, exactly?" Ron asked incredulously.

"It could be thirty," Harry said simply. "I wonder why he hasn't got more …"

"Beats me," Hagrid said.

"We'll just have to use our resources better," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "We'll have six giants, over a thousand Aurors and didn't Griphook say yesterday that he has two hundred Goblins ready to fight? That's got to go in our favour, hasn't it?"

Harry nodded slowly, but Ron continued to look unconvinced.

Harry stood up and patted Hagrid on the back. "Thanks, Hagrid. You're … well, you're the best half-giant-gamekeeper-illegal-magic-user-friend that I've ever had."

Hagrid laughed with a big boom and hugged Harry once more, who had all the breath crushed out of him.

"Harry … won't be the same when I get back ter school and you're not there. You will come back, won't you? When all o' this is over?"

Harry swallowed. _If I'm still alive. _"Of course."

- - - - -

"This is surreal," Ron muttered groggily some hours later as he and Harry lay in their beds. "I mean, can you believe that you're in charge? The whole Ministry and the Order … you can just tell them to do something and they'll do it."

"It might be too late, though," Harry said. "I should have done this months ago. We might have had a chance …"

"We've got a chance, Harry," Ron said seriously, propping himself up on his pillows slightly. "Those leaders are getting their Aurors here tomorrow, aren't they?"

Harry shrugged. "Most of them. If they even took me seriously."

"I'm sure they did. If they didn't, then they're just idiots who deserve –"

"– to die?" Harry said quietly.

Ron looked down. "No. But … I'm just saying; everyone knows you're the best person to do it. Now Dumbledore's gone and Scrimgeour was so useless, _and _you've destroyed three Horcruxes –"

"_We've _destroyed three Horcruxes," Harry reminded him. "That's the next thing we've got to do. Find that damn snake and kill it. I want the Location Department in the Ministry to do a serpent spell that'll cover the whole of Britain and we'll check every single bloody spot if we have to. Then I can …"

"You can kill You Know Who?"

Harry chuckled humourlessly. "Easier said then done."

Ron looked back at Harry again, his face serious. "I think you can, mate."

Harry smiled at his best friend, happy and proud to have someone who had so much confidence in him, but also a little frightened to disappoint him. Just then, making them both jump, the door burst open.

"What?" Harry said quickly, blinking as the lights were thrown on.

"I'm sorry, Mr Potter … I thought you'd want to be disturbed."

It was Hopkins; one of the Unspeakables who had been following one of the Death Eaters Harry had assigned him to. His face was white and his hands were shaking; not a good sign.

"What is it?" Harry asked, throwing his covers back.

"There's … there's something happening."

"Where?" Harry asked, fear flooding into the pit of his stomach and turning to bile in his throat.

"At Hogwarts."

- - - - -

* * *

**A/N: **That one's for all my lovely readers who miss my awful cliff hangers! Haha! I know how evil I am. Please review and tell me your theories, as I love to hear from you. I know I've been a bit crap at answering questions and all that, but Uni's been crazy so far and I just wanted ot get this chapter out.

So I just want to say … THANKS SO MUCH FOR ALL THE REVIEWS. And the people who review like every chapter. I love ya.

Rosie xxx


	36. Motive and Reason

_**MARKED

* * *

**_

"_And Voldemort?" Hermione said._

"_I'm going to kill him. And no one else is to try."

* * *

_

**THIRTY-SIX: Motive and Reason**

"Mr Potter?"

There was a ringing in Harry's ears and his voice had temporarily abandoned him. It was happening at Hogwarts … his beloved Hogwarts … where Ginny was.

"Harry?" Ron probed sharply.

Harry sucked in a mouthful of oxygen realising that he had not been breathing for the last ten seconds.

"What's happening? What do you mean?" he asked hoarsely.

Hopkins tugged at the neck of his shirt, as though trying to get some more air into his parched lungs. "There's … the Dark Mark's been set over the front gates."

Harry felt paralysed. Icy fear flooded the pit of his stomach like poison coursing through his veins. When he spoke it was in a voice he did not even recognise.

"When?"

"Only but a few minutes ago. Those scouts you had watching the castle … they saw a disturbance and sent a message but …"

"But what?"

"We didn't get the full message, sir."

Harry frowned. "Why not?"

"Because … because they were caught and killed. Which probably means that –"

"– Voldemort's got the place secured," Harry said, finishing the sentence for him.

Harry threw his covers back and stood up slowly, rubbing his eyes and swearing under his breath in a whisper.

"Who else knows about this?" he asked Hopkins, who looked positively pale. It was strange; this man had clearly dealt with quite some distressing issues in his work as an Unspeakable, yet now he looked as though it was his first day on the job and he was sixteen years old.

"One Order member back here who received the message … um, myself and two other scouts who were positioned on the other side of the forest."

"They didn't stay?" Harry asked.

"No, I told them to return to their bases."

"Good," Harry said slowly. "OK … OK, here's what we'll do … I want you to get those scouts here as quickly as you can; I need more details. Ron, go and wake everybody up."

"_Everybody?"_

"Everybody," Harry repeated. "This is … this is him trying to get my attention."

"Yeah? Well it's bloody working," Ron said darkly as he left the room. Harry heard him banging on doors. Hopkins nodded and left also.

Harry started pacing the room again.

_What is he doing? Trying to take over the school? _

No, he wouldn't risk that. Not yet.

_Why not? Dumbledore's not there to protect it anymore. This could be it; he could turn the tables right now. _

Maybe he's just trying to get me there.

_No, there would have been some kind of message with it, surely …_

If he took over the school, nobody would dare challenge him again … he'd have too much influence over … _everything._

Harry realised, as he finally stopped his pacing, that this was the moment; the time to stop Voldemort taking complete hold had come. There was no more hiding to be done. If he succeeded in taking the school then all would be lost.

Harry stared into the small mirror above the dressing table in their room; his reflection peered back at him, pale and … young. Too young. Was he really ready?

_That's not the issue,_ he thought. _Ready or not, here he comes_. It was like a distorted childhood game; a horrible parody gone wrong.

Harry thought, as he stared at his own shaking vision, that he could see Voldemort staring at him out of the mirror; his own imagination zoomed into overdrive and he could see his enemy mocking him …

Exhaling heavily, he picked up his wand and left the room.

- - - - -

Assembled in the kitchen was everyone currently staying at Headquarters, bleary eyed and yawning. Hermione darted forwards to Harry when he came in the room.

"Harry … what's happened? Ron said something about Hogwarts …"

Harry didn't answer her, but stood at the head of the table.

"Everyone … sorry to wake you, but this is serious."

An instant hush fell over the room, which had been up until that point muttering sleepily amongst themselves. Harry almost did not want to break the spell.

"Voldemort's at Hogwarts."

First silence, then –

"_WHAT?!"_

"NO!"

"_How _did he get in?"

There was an outbreak of nervous, surprised and suddenly very awake exclamations. Harry had been expecting them and therefore let them pass.

"Obviously, we need to think about how we're going to act. We can't go storming in…"

"Quite right," Lupin said from a nearby chair. "It's a ploy to get you in there, Harry … surely you know that?"

His voice was low and calm, but Harry could detect a faint waver to it.

"Yeah, the thought had occurred to me," Harry replied. "Now that I'm in charge, he's probably thinking of ways to end it as soon as possible …"

"So you don't think we should go in now?" said Cassie from the sofa, wearing a pink dressing gown. She was clutching a cushion with her hands and gripping it tightly.

"I think we need to contact the right people," Harry replied. "We need the Aurors in the Ministry."

Had this happened the year before, Harry would have been urging whoever was in charge to go in as soon as possible to take it back, but he was in charge now.

"I'll get on the line to the Minister," said Mr Weasley immediately.

"Yes, quickly, Arthur …" said Mrs Weasley, her face white and drawn.

"Tell him what's going on and that he needs to alert the Foreign Auror stations. But _don't _act until I tell them to," Harry said clearly.

Mr Weasley nodded curtly and left to use the fireplace.

Harry rubbed his eyes. "We can't risk contacting anyone at Hogwarts yet … so Hagrid's out of the question. The goblins … someone needs to get on the safe house where they're staying … Hermione, would you –"

"– of course," she answered before he had finished the question.

Harry began pacing again. He wasn't even aware that every eye in the room was on him, waiting expectantly for him to make a decision … to save the day. What he really wanted (and he despised himself slightly for hoping it) was for someone, Lupin perhaps or even Mr Weasley, to step forwards and make some decisions; to tell him what to do. But Lupin, everyone in fact, was looking at _him_. It was Mrs Weasley's small, shaking voice that made him look up finally from his reverie.

"Harry … what are we going to do?"

Harry stopped pacing. "We need to take a look at the situation … I don't want to charge in without having a better idea of how many he's got with him, or _what _he's got with him …"

"Quite right," said Kingsley from the doorway. He was heavily bandaged and spoke with a rasp, but Harry was grateful for the agreement. "He could have twenty giants in there for all we know."

"Right, so –"

There was a sudden loud and enormous bang that issued from the edge of the kitchen, cutting Harry off. Nearly everyone jumped and Mrs Weasley screamed.

Bill moved forwards towards the fireplace where the bang had come from. He reached into the ashes and took out what seemed to be a burnt envelope. Everyone held their breath.

"It's addressed to you," Bill said slowly, holding the paper out to Harry.

Harry had known before Bill spoke that it would be for him; it must be from Voldemort. His own name was staring up at him in grotesquely spiky writing from the outside of the envelope.

He took it in his hands, trying to steady them; it would not do for everyone in the Order to see him shaking. The edge of the envelope was burnt from the fire. Harry took his wand and tapped the envelope to slit it open.

Into his hands fell a single lock of red hair. People near him who were craning their necks to see what the message was did not seem to understand, but to Harry, Voldemort might as well have sent a severed head.

"Ginny," he whispered quietly to himself. He closed his hand to make a fist and clutched the small part of her to his chest.

"What is it, Harry?" whispered Hermione.

"It's a message," he said quietly. How could he have been so stupid?

"I don't see any writing," said Elphias Dodge.

Harry held up the lock of hair in his hands. Mr and Mrs Weasley stared at it for a moment, not realising as quickly as Harry had done, but then Mrs Weasley gave a dry sob and flung herself into her husband's chest.

Ron appeared unable to form words and Hermione's mouth was open in a silent scream.

"Oh, my Ginny!" Mrs Weasley cried. Bill moved forwards to console his mother.

Fred and George stood mutely by the door. Fred opened his mouth and cleared his throat.

"So … what – what does … does that mean that …?"

"He wants me there," Harry said slowly. "And if I don't come … he'll kill her."

Everything had changed now … Harry had made up his mind in a split second.

"Of course he wants you there," Ron said in a surprisingly strong voice. "He knows you wouldn't be able to get back up straightaway …"

Harry shook his head; his heart pumping so quickly he thought it might burst out of his chest. He felt physically sick and took a deep breath to stop the overwhelming nausea.

_Of course this was going to happen. You knew it would. Really, deep down, you knew it would. And yet …_

Why hadn't he sent her away? Once again, he knew that it was all _his_ fault. Harry's imagination showed Ginny tied, possibly bloodied, terrified. He also knew that Voldemort had done it again … he knew him too well. If there was one sure fire way he was going to get Harry alone … this was it.

How had he let it happen? Voldemort had probably been planning this for weeks … he must have known that, particularly after Sirius's death, there would be objections to charging in … and he had used it against him.

"What do we do now?" said Cassie, who had so far been quiet, dragging Harry back up from the depths of defeat.

"There's only one thing we can do," Harry replied and strode past everybody back into the living room. "We leave now."

"Harry, you _can't _be thinking what I think you're thinking," said Lupin sharply.

"What else can we do?" Harry demanded desperately.

"We _wait_!" Lupin said desperately. "We cannot charge in there as we are now, just as you said yourself!"

"If we wait," Harry said curtly, "he will kill her."

"He'd kill her anyway," said a voice, but it wasn't Lupin's. It was Ron's.

"What?" muttered Harry, staring at Ron.

"Harry, what about the rest of the note?" Ron said seriously.

Harry shrugged and looked down at the envelope again, as though thinking he'd see a different message. "What rest of the note …?"

"The part that says, 'P.S this is a trap'!"

Harry opened his mouth angrily but Ron cut him off.

"If you go in there now like some hero then he'll just tell the Death Eaters to shoot you down on the spot. He won't even have the guts to take you on himself! And then it'll all be over!"

"Ron's right, Harry," said Hermione. Harry looked at her; it had never been Ron and Hermione against Harry before. She had always been the mediator, but this time things had changed.

"I can't just sit here and wait for him to murder my girlfriend!" Harry said angrily. How could they stand there so calmly and tell him to simply sit it out?

"There is only one reason that Voldemort has finally risked going into Hogwarts, Harry, and that's to take over. Threatening to kill Ginny is like saying … like saying he's going to snap a pencil – it's a given!"

"Ron, she's your sister!" Harry said, flabbergasted. "You're talking about her like she's … like she's a casualty of war or something!"

"I know she's my sister," Ron said bitterly. "But you've got to think with your damn head here, Harry, because the world depends on it this time."

"Harry, it's just what he wants. This is the bait … once you're there, he's got you," said Hermione.

There was another flash of light but this time, Harry did not even jump. He did not even look at the fireplace; he was too busy looking at Ron as though he had never seen him before. Lupin moved forwards cautiously, eyes on Harry, and took the piece of parchment. This time there was loopy writing on it.

"Scrimgeour says that there have been some developments in the numbers; Canada has sent thirty of their best. The Foreign Auror divisions can mobilise here within twenty minutes."

Harry shook his head. "We can't wait that long."

Lupin shook his head and stepped backwards. "I think you're wrong, Harry … but I respect that it is your decision."

Harry twisted his hands, thinking. "We can go in through the Shrieking Shack; that comes out by the Whomping Willow in the grounds. Hardly anyone knows about that entrance, and even if they did they won't expect us to come in that way."

"Bloody hell, have you learnt _nothing_?" Ron said, the volume of his voice rising uncharacteristically.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry spat defensively. "Anyway I don't have time for this …"

"No, you do have time, Harry. What about two years ago? What about the Ministry? This is exactly what happened when …"

"When what?" Harry demanded.

But Ron had broken off, his ears reddening for the first time. It appeared that he had lost his nerve at the last second and refrained from saying what he was about to.

"When … you know."

"No, I don't know, Ron, you're going to have to spell it out for me. When what happened?" Harry said viciously. He knew what Ron was talking about but he was so incensed that his best friend was suggesting they wait that he wanted the reason.

"You know what I'm on about, Harry! I'm talking about Sirius! If you hadn't rushed off that time then –"

"– then what? He wouldn't have died?"

The room had gone deathly quiet. Hermione turned away, shaking her head. Lupin's eyes were fixed on Harry.

"You think I don't know that?" Harry said lowering his voice for the first time since Ron had spoken out. "You think I don't see his face every night before I close my eyes?"

Ron looked away. "Harry, we can stop this. But doing exactly the same thing as last time is just going to kill us all."

"If I could have stopped Sirius dying, I would have," Harry said, his voice breaking. "And now, I can stop Ginny from dying. I can stop it by going there, by –"

"– by doing just what he wants!" Hermione exclaimed. "Harry, we're not bringing up Sirius to hurt you, we're just trying to show you how dangerous this is! How stupid! If he kills you …"

"_If._ If he kills me. But if I kill him, it'll all be over."

They stared at him. Ron shook his head and turned away as though he could not bear to look at Harry.

"And that's what this is all about, isn't it?" Harry went on, holding up his hands. "It's about me and him. If he dies early on, then there might not even be a war."

"But there _might _be," said Mr Weasley.

Harry couldn't believe that Mr Weasley, Ginny's father, was saying the same thing as Ron … as everybody. Was he wrong? Should he wait? Harry thought of Dumbledore; of what he would do in this situation.

_Dumbledore wouldn't have let them in in the first place,_ he thought.

Surely Dumbledore would stop them before they took hold? And in any case he could not erase the picture from his mind of Ginny, frightened and alone, possibly crying for him whilst he stood there and argued … it was madness.

"Look … you're right," he said bleakly. "I _know _it's a trap. But I …" It was as though he couldn't find the words. "It's just … Sirius's death was my fault and I …"

"Harry, it wasn't –"

"– no, don't. Just _don't._ You might all be able to sit here and wait and tell yourselves that it's for the best and that the world will _probably _be the safer for it … but that's my girlfriend in there. And I … I can't leave her in there to die, because he _will _kill her. I just … I just can't."

Whilst they stared at him and tears fell thick and fast from Mrs Weasley's and Hermione's eyes, Harry thought back to what Lupin had said to him weeks before right after Bellatrix Lestrange had fallen at his hand …

_Dumbledore said you had the best instincts of anyone he had known … and so do I …_

His instinct right now told him to go. He turned to them all, clutching his wand.

"I'm going to make it easy," he said quickly. "I am going to Hogwarts now and I don't want any of you to follow until the reinforcements get here in twenty minutes. I don't have time to argue about this, so just do it."

He strode past them to a clearer space in the living room. Hermione caught his arm.

"Harry … you can't go alone … please wait …"

"I'm more likely to get in undetected on my own. He'll be expecting an army," he said with one more look to Ron, who still had his back to them all. "I'll see you soon."

"But –"

He did not wait to hear her goodbye or to see the Order's scandalised faces. He simply visualised Hogsmead and the cellar of the sweet shop on the frosted high street, and Apparated.

- - - - -

"Oh God … oh God, what have we done?" Hermione muttered under her breath over and over again after sinking down into one of Kingsley's sofas. "We let him go … we let him go!"

"Let wouldn't be the way I'd phrase it," said Bill darkly. "He knew what he was doing."

"He wouldn't have gone if I hadn't have yelled at him," said Ron quietly from the corner. "I just … was I wrong?"

Hermione shook his head. "I think we should have waited. But Harry _is _in charge … we knew that. And he was going no matter what, Ron."

"If he is caught then we are done for," said Lupin darkly. "I don't mean to be the voice of doom, but that is the reality of the situation. On the other hand … he has good instincts, and Dumbledore always taught him to follow them."

"But he _will _be caught," muttered Dodge. "He's gone in there _to get _caught."

For the third time that evening there was a disturbance in the fireplace. Kingsley was the closest and turned a bandaged head towards the noise. Sitting in the green flames was the greenish-red head of a goblin with a long and pointed nose and a forehead covered with pimples.

"Griphook," said Kingsley to the strange apparition in his house.

"Mr Shaklebolt," rasped Griphook, clearing his throat loudly. "I have news from the safe house where a number of our kind is staying."

"Yes?"

"We can muster our numbers to fight within fifteen minutes."

Lupin sighed and looked at Ron. Griphook clicked his tongue impatiently.

"OK, thank you, Griphook."

The goblin gave a curt nod and disappeared back into the flames. Ron threw up his hands.

"God! What can we do? Ginny might already be dead …"

"But she might not be," George said shakily. "And for the record I think Harry was right in saying that You Know Who would kill her right away if he didn't go."

"So you think we should have all gone? You think we all should have charged in when they were expecting us?" said Sloane.

George shrugged. "I don't know. I'm not in charge, am I?"

Ron bit his lip. "Alright. OK … this is what we're going to do."

- - - - -

As Harry arrived at the Shrieking Shack on the edge Hogsmead, an owl hooted loudly overhead in the cloudless night sky, making him jump. He cursed and pushed the creaking door with his wand. The house smelt damp and derelict; it was clear that nothing had changed. With a pang, Harry remembered the last time he had entered the not-so-haunted building; when he had learnt the truth about Sirius. That had been nearly five years ago now … It was fitting, he thought, that the shack was dark and sinister when he himself was about to embark on the darkest and dirtiest journey of his life.

He found the dust-ridden trap door in what must have once been the kitchen. It appeared to have remained undisturbed since his last visit; a good sign, seeing as he did not wish to be detected by any Death Eater.

The darkness engulfed him immediately, but he did not bother to light his wand; he knew the way well enough to know where he was putting his feet. The air was cold and stale, but Harry did not care. He could almost hear Ginny screaming in his ears. He could not have stayed … he could not have waited. If she died … then nothing else mattered.

Harry stopped suddenly, having heard something. A cough. He lit his wand quickly and swung his arm around behind him. There was no one there.

"_Ahem …_"

It came again, much closer this time. Harry's heart beat triple time. What was it and how was it so close?"

"Who's there?" he called into the darkness rather stupidly. "Where are you?"

"Well, I'm in your pocket if you must know."

For a second, Harry stood rooted to the spot, the words not really penetrating his skull. Then, slowly, he reached into his jumper pocket at drew out the Chocolate Frog card residing there. He could not even remember putting it in his pocket. Holding the wand light up to the shining plastic card, he saw with a jolt, Professor Dumbledore gazing serenely up at him.

"Professor!" Harry exclaimed, his voice echoing down the deserted tunnel.

"Harry," Dumbledore replied, scratching his chin characteristically.

"I …" Harry stared at the former Headmaster with a hundred thoughts in his head. "I though you'd … the card …but …"

"Ah, yes, Salazar Slytherin may blow apart as much chocolate as he wishes, but he will never dispense with the ancient magic left by our kind."

Harry opened his mouth and closed it again. "That's … that's good, but Professor, I don't have a lot of time for a chat right now …"

"I see. I understand now that this is, forgive me for the colloquialism, the big showdown?" He spoke with such a commonplace tone that he may as well have been commenting on the weather.

Harry blinked. "Yeah, I guess so."

"And you are alone, I see?"

Harry shrugged, his heart still beating unnaturally fast. "They thought that we should –"

"– wait?" prompted Dumbledore, the slightest edge of a suggestion in his voice.

Harry's heart sank. For a moment, he did not speak. "Do you think I should have?" he asked after a moment's pause.

Dumbledore merely smiled. "I think that you are in charge now, Harry."

Harry inclined his head. "You didn't answer my question."

The old Headmaster's eyes twinkled. "You remain as perceptive as ever, my dear boy! Before I do answer that question, I would like to ask you one in turn."

Harry held the card a little further away from his face, not wanting to see any disappointment in the face of the man who had taught him everything he knew. Part of him wanted to stuff the card back in his pocket and run on without thinking, but he knew he had to hear this.

"OK."

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Why is it that you are going to Hogwarts, Harry?"

Harry frowned. "To help Ginny."

"Ahh," Dumbledore sighed. "I thought as much."

Harry shook his head, his mind spinning so fast that he could not form any sort of conscious thought now as he stood halfway down the dark passageway on his way to Lord Voldemort.

"What's wrong with wanting to stop her from dying?" Harry asked hotly. "Maybe if I'd done that two years ago …"

"You are going for the wrong reasons, Harry," Dumbledore said simply. "There is, as you say, nothing wrong with wanting to save the life of the one person you hold so dear, and I do not just mean as a friend … I am no stranger to passionate love. But think, for a second if you will, why you are going."

Harry thought. Well, that was obvious, really …

"Because he's trying to take over …"

"No. No, that is not the reason," Dumbledore said sharply. "You would have waited, would you not, had there not been a cryptic warning of Ginevra's death? You would have waited for reinforcements; you would have thought out your movements; you would have planned, yes?"

Harry frowned once again. "I guess …"

"You are going, in short, because Lord Voldemort has called you. You are going on his terms. You are not going because you yourself are ready to kill him. He has used the one thing, as you knew he inevitably would, which will determine without a shadow of a doubt that you will go to him. He has shown that he knows you best."

Harry held his breath, a hot and prickly feeling of shame creeping through his veins.

"You believe, as any normal person in love would, that if she dies, nothing else matters, am I correct?"

Harry didn't answer, for he knew it was true, and he knew also that it was wrong.

Dumbledore smiled sadly, as though what he was saying was indecent. "As a marked man, Harry, you can afford no such luxury … and you are aware of that, are you not? I can see that you are. Of course, it would be preferable if Ginevra does _not_ die, which you yourself may even be able to prevent if you go, but you have the tools to save the world, Harry. You have the necessary qualities to finish the job!"

"You remember the conversation we had concerning the prophecy?" Dumbledore continued, ignoring Harry's expression. "How there is a difference from being dragged into an arena to fight to the death, and entering it with your head held high?"

"Yes …" Harry whispered croakily.

"You must stop now, right here, and assess your _reason_. Think of _why_ you are going to save her."

"Because … because he's dangerous. Because he'll take over."

"Exactly, Harry, exactly! And you must stop him, you must stop him now! But not because he has your girlfriend as bait, because you yourself can put an end to his murderous rampage! Because you as a man are ready to put to challenge him and stop the war!"

And Harry saw, finally, what Dumbledore was getting at. He saw that he must go now, but not only to save Ginny. He must go now to kill Voldemort.

"But you cannot do it alone," Dumbledore added softly.

"So … so do you think I should go back and wait?" Harry asked.

"I think that now you are here, you may as well assess the situation for when the cavalry arrives, which may be sooner than you think. I think you made a decision as leaders all over the world must, and you acted upon it."

Harry swallowed, suddenly feeling very clear about what he had to do; clearer in fact than he had ever felt in his life about what he was meant to do … what he _must _do for everyone.

There was a long pause before Dumbledore spoke again.

"I have nothing more to teach you, Harry," said Dumbledore slowly. "I have nothing more I can say to help you with this journey that you must take now. I wish you luck, and will say only this: that you are the most exceptional young man I have ever met."

Harry's throat felt very dry. He swallowed and blinked at the card.

"Thanks."

"Goodbye, Harry." And then Dumbledore was gone, as quickly as he had appeared.

Harry stood in the dim tunnel, his heart echoing in his ears and bent down, placing the card carefully on the floor. He knew in that moment that Dumbledore would never again offer him that kind of help or advice through the card. It was true; he had everything he needed to know, Snape himself had hinted (albeit grudgingly) that he was ready. Now was the time to go.

The tunnel seemed to end surprisingly soon not long after Harry had beat the familiar track with his feet to the Whomping Willow. Memories of his second and third year surrounding that particular tree flooded his mind, but he pushed them firmly to the back; nostalgic reminisces would be of no use to him now.

Cautiously, as though he were reaching out to a butterfly, Harry pulled himself up towards the tiniest of lights, which he deduced must be the night sky. He inched his head over the top and saw, with a jolt, that only metres away from him stood three giants with their backs to him. Harry's breath caught in his throat as he took in roughly the size of them; at least twenty feet tall with arms like cars and feet the size of canoes. He swivelled his head to the right and saw Hogwarts in the distance.

The Dark Mark was, as Hopkins had told him, hanging directly over the oak front door and Harry could now see more clearly that there was at least one Death Eater stationed at every entrance. Had the grotesque green symbol not been hanging over the castle, the twinkling lights would have deceptively suggested that all was well. Thankfully, it looked as though the Whomping Willow remained unmarked, most possibly because the branches themselves occasionally took a ferocious swipe at nothing in particular; fortunately, Harry was still wedged in the hole so that the branches did not reach him.

He scanned the grounds again and could see the lake sparkling in the moonlight in the distance … what was that standing in the lake? With sick dread and a paralysing horror, Harry recognised all too well the ghostly stance of dead bodies, reanimated by Voldemort himself, waiting to prey on those who stumbled into their path by sucking them into the depths below…

Inferi.

They looked like puppets, standing like rag dolls, heads lolling to one side, waiting for an unsuspecting innocent student to stumble into their clutches so that they could make yet another member of Voldemort's un-dead army …

There was no sign of Voldemort himself, which Harry thought was odd; this was him coming in and calling the shots, taking over … why did he not wish to be seen?

As Harry squinted his eyes even further, he saw something in the distance … a kind of swirly transparent mist. Dementors. He had felt the chill of them before he had even emerged his head from the hole, though he could only see one, standing mute-like outside the Herbology greenhouse, but that didn't mean there weren't more of them. Harry thought of the first year students inside Hogwarts, many of which would have only heard of Dementors from within their own nightmares … they would be terrified if Voldemort had unleashed them all inside.

_OK … three giants, maybe more … five Death Eaters, probably more up on the turrets and definitely inside, Dementors, inferi … _

"Harry!"

A hand clamped over Harry's mouth to stop him from crying out and he knew a moment of pure terror before recognising the voice as Hermione's. He turned and saw her behind him, allowing her to pull him back into the relative safety of the hole.

"Hermione!" he said hoarsely, holding his wand up for a better view. "What are you doing here –?"

And then his wand light fell on Ron, who was standing by her side, his face white. He half-smiled.

"You came," Harry said quietly.

"Yeah," Ron replied. "Thought we'd be too late … didn't know if you'd have gone in yet."

Harry shook his head to the earthy floor. "No. I … er, had a bit of divine intervention, if you know what I mean."

Ron raised his eyebrows. "Not really, but never mind."

"Look, Harry," Hermione began. "We couldn't let you go in on your own …"

"No, you were right. There's no point in risking everybody else's lives."

"But they're risking them anyway, being in the Order," Ron said. "We're in this together."

Harry's heart felt as though it had expanded to three times its natural size. Back in Kinsgley's house, there had been a moment where he had felt very alone, like they had all left him; divided and split, all because of a decision that he had made. Now, as he saw them and them alone standing there by his side, he knew that he would never be alone, not really. He may have been marked at birth, but _nothing _would ever dictate who his friends were.

"I'm glad you're here," he said.

"We told the rest of the Order that we were going to come and see what was happening and where you were, and then told them to follow us down this passageway when reinforcements came," Ron said.

"Griphook will have the goblins ready in –" (she looked at her watch) "ten minutes, now."

"OK," Harry said slowly. "I've seen at least five Death Eaters out the front, but there's probably more all around the side and the back, not to mention the ones up in the Astronomy tower or on the turrets –"

"– Or those who have made themselves Disillusioned –"

"Exactly," Harry conceded. "I think we need to assume that he'll have the maximum number of Death Eaters, if not outside waiting for us then inside." Dropping his voice, he added, "There're three giants about ten metres away from us …"

He waited for Ron and Hermione to gasp or something, but they did not.

" … And they make Grawp look like he's got a growth deficiency. I don't know where Hagrid is – there's no light in his hut, but he may have some way of contacting the giants he persuaded. There's Dementors here, I'm not sure how many, but there's sure to be more somewhere … Inferi in the lake –"

"My favourite," Ron muttered darkly.

"I've had an idea about how to get the youngest out," Hermione said. "I know it won't be possible to contact McGonagall, because Voldemort will have sealed all means of communication in and out of the castle, but it might be possible to lift the Apparition enchantments."

"How?" said Harry impressively.

"Well … I could do it. I've been researching all about it ever since Dumbledore died, and it might be possible for me to do it. The magic around the school is a bit like a Muggle computer; you have to hack into the mainframe with your mind and your magic, and I think that I could do it … it's all about having the right brainpower …"

"Hermione, if you could do that, it would be –"

"Bloody brilliant," Ron finished.

She blushed a little in the dim wand light. Harry took a breath.

"I'm pretty sure that nobody knows about _this _entrance, because of the Willow. But we can't have hundreds of Aurors storming through here … it'll be a good surprise, but they'll all be bunched together and easier to attack once the other side realise what's going on, so I think that we should storm out of this entrance first, and then out of the one eyed witch's hump about two minutes after."

"But isn't Voldemort bound to know about that one? He'll know pretty much everything about Hogwarts, won't he?" said Hermione.

"Probably," Harry agreed. "But hopefully the Willow will provide a distraction. Then after the second wave I want fighters coming in from all sides; some through the main gates, some from the Quidditch pitch … they'll have to fly in because I doubt they'll be able to land directly in front of Hogwarts."

"So split them up –"

"– to knock them down, yes," Harry said. "I don't want anyone in from the lake, not at first at least … the Inferi will be too together and just rip anyone apart, but if there's enough going on then hopefully they'll get confused."

"And Voldemort?" Hermione said.

Harry looked at her, saying nothing at first.

"I mean, are we just trying to stop him, or …"

"No. I'm going to kill him," Harry said confidently. "And no one else is to try."

Ron looked at him. "And is this because he's got Ginny?"

"Yes," Harry replied. "But it's also because he killed my parents, and hundreds of other people's parents and he'll keep doing it if he's not stopped. And I'm the only one that can stop him."

Ron and Hermione stared at him. "Are you sure you're ready, Harry?" Ron asked.

Harry thought for a moment. There was only one answer, because he _felt _it was true rather than thinking that it _should_ be.

"Yes."

They nodded, faces white, but resolute all the same.

"I want you to go back and tell them the plan when they arrive in Hogsmead, and keep your eyes open because there might be Death Eaters or god knows what there too. I don't care which divisions go where, just as long as they have a wand and a good head on their shoulders. If anyone who gets there looks like they can't hack it, send them home. Can you do that? Can you sort them?"

Ron nodded.

"I want the scouts in first … they have more experience in storming than the other Aurors. I want Lupin, your dad, Kingsley if he's up to it, and both of you in different groups. OK?"

"Yes," Hermione said. "What are you going to do now, while we go back and wait for them?"

Harry looked at his watch. "How long till you can lift the Apparition enchantments?"

Hermione bit her lip. "Five minutes? But I won't be able to lift them for long … it'll only be a ten minute window, if that."

"I'm going to try and see where the youngest students are and try and Apparate them out, and I'll do that as soon as the first wave provides the first distraction. I'll look for a weak point into the castle while you tell the others."

Hermione nodded. "The reinforcements will be seven minutes, tops."

"Right. Go on then, get going. And _be careful._"

But they hesitated. Hermione touched his arm, looking doubtful, as did Ron. "Is there … do we say anything, or …"

Harry cut her off, not wanting to go down that road. "No. I don't think we do."

If they said goodbye, it would all seem too genuine. He smiled at them, determined that they would see positivism in his eyes and nothing but bravery, but he was not sure that they did.

"See you."

And with one brief smile, they turned and ran back into the darkness the way they came. Harry stood for a few seconds, hearing them get further and further away, before turning and poking his head back out again, and stealing himself for action … action that concerned the whole wizarding world.

- - - - -

* * *

A/N: Is that another cliff hanger? I think it is!

Just a little note, there will only be two more chapters. So please review! While you still can!!!!

Rosie xxx


	37. Harry's Truth

**NB: A thousand apologies for the lateness of this; there were 3 drafts that I did, and this is the final one … seeing as it's the penultimate chapter (and the hardest one EVER to write yet,) I wanted to get it right. Enjoy. **

_**MARKED

* * *

**_

"_You'll still never win this," Harry said quietly._

_He knew what to do.

* * *

_

**THIRTY-SEVEN: Harry's Truth**

As Harry rapped himself smartly over the head with his own wand, preparing for Disillusionment, many thoughts ran through his head.

_This is stupid._

No, it's not. You can't back out now.

_You're going to die._

But everyone is counting on you. _Ginny _is counting on you.

_You haven't even killed the snake yet. You can't kill him until you do._

She's going to be here anyway … I can feel it …

And this was perfectly true; once again, as he had felt it before, Harry felt an unexplainable knowledge that Voldemort's final Horcrux was somehow nearby. It made sense really; she was likely to be near to her master, especially if she was precious … Voldemort would want to make sure personally that she was safe.

Harry reached up to grasp the rough edges of the hole to pull himself up, very aware that he had about six minutes before some reinforcements would come through this very hole. Perhaps he could avoid a few more casualties by taking care of the Death Eaters he could see …

The night air was cold, but it was good to see the stars above his head instead of an impenetrable and opaque earth ceiling. Shakily, he rolled out of the hole as quietly as he could, moving slightly around the back of the immense trunk of the Whomping Willow. Directly to his right he could see a figure in a black cloak, hood pulled low over their eyes. A Death Eater. He could not tell who it was at this distance, but then again there would have been so many new recruits in order to build Voldemort's army of sixteen hundred Death Eaters that Harry would probably only recognise a mere handful… he tried hard not to imagine how many of them were actually here, but it was needless to say that the castle would be crawling …

The first giant, now only metres away, was standing with its feet squarely apart, having to squat to hold up its own vast weight. It had feet the size of sledges and every toenail was about the size of Harry's own hand. The immense head was turning slowly from side to side, as though its brain could not make it move any faster.

_Great for squashing, _thought Harry. _But not for guard duty._

The Death Eater to his right was staring around him, on watch. He had his back to the castle wall, and the other nearest Death Eater was a little around the corner. Harry raised his wand and focused his mind, angling his wand so he was pointing slightly to the left of the figure; it would strike him so he fell backwards.

_Petrificus Totalus! _Harry thought, performing the spell non-verbally so as not to draw any attention.

The Death Eater, not expecting an attack from a hidden and disillusioned wizard behind a tree, fell backwards into the wall silently, unseen by anyone except Harry. The giant had not even completed its180 degree head turn to the right.

As quick as a flash, whilst the second giant was momentarily gazing in the opposite direction, Harry darted across the dry grass, staying very low to the ground, and took up the place where the Death Eater had stood guard. The cloak and hood had fallen off as the Death Eater had toppled backwards, and as he eyed it, Harry was struck by a sudden idea.

Slowly, he reached down and picked up the hooded cloak, then drew it around himself, pulling the hood low over his eyes. It felt disgusting; only moments before it had been worn by a piece of treacherous filth … but it was the only way he could take some of them out without being about as conspicuous as Hagrid in a china shop.

As he stood there, breathing heavily, he forced his brain to think harder than it had ever thought. _Where would the youngest students be?_ That was the main priority at the moment … if there was to be a full scale battle here and now, and it was fairly inevitable that this was indeed the day, then he could not let 11 year olds bear witness. The only saving grace was that there would not be as many students there to save … many parents had not sent their children back to Hogwarts in the light of Dumbledore's death.

Harry looked up, straining his eyes … he had about four minutes. Voldemort would want to keep the students in his eye-line, or in the eye-line of the Death Eaters, to make sure there were no trouble makers … where would they be?

"Potter."

Harry jumped as though he had been shot with a gun. He spun around, his wand gripped tightly in his fist as he raised to strike … to kill … but it was the most unexpected person he saw standing in front of him.

Draco Malfoy.

"I thought it was you. That charm's wearing off."

"Malfoy!" Harry hissed, swivelling his head to make sure that the other Death Eater, metres away, had not heard. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"You sent me to be baby-sat, remember?" Malfoy spat maliciously, his grey eyes narrowed. "I've been here ever since, helping out like some common Muggle assistant!"

"Never mind that now," spat Harry angrily, his mind on far more important things than Malfoy's plight. "How did you get out?"

"I wasn't supposed to be out," said Malfoy levelly. "McGonagall told me to be in by 8pm most nights, but I don't take any orders from her anymore. I was sitting near the forest when I saw them coming. I waited and watched as they went in, ran around the back so they wouldn't see me."

"They _will_ have seen you, you idiot, Voldemort sees everything!"

The giant nearest to them stirred slightly. Harry grabbed Malfoy roughly by the scruff of his baggy robes and pulled him deeper into the shadows of the castle wall.

Malfoy scowled and shook off Harry's grip. "I didn't pull my pants over my head and run around screaming 'I'm a deserter, come and kill me please!' How stupid do you think I am?"

"Very."

They glared at each other, Harry still not convinced of his former pale enemy's loyalty, and yet his face was wan and sweaty, much like it had been the night he had tried, and failed, to kill Dumbledore.

"Look, do you know where the youngest students are? The first and second years?" Harry asked a little desperately. Three minutes.

Malfoy cocked his head. "What's in it for me?"

"Your life," Harry responded flatly. "The sooner I get them out, the sooner I can concentrate on killing him, which means he won't be able to kill you. You always were one for self preservation. You figure it out."

Malfoy chewed his lip. "I heard Goyle, you know, the big one, say they were on the second floor; in that big Charms classroom. That's where they put the small ones, but there's not many of them from what I've seen here. They're … they were going to start killing them before you got here. They know you're coming, Potter."

"I know," Harry said bluntly.

"He'll probably kill your little blood traitor girlfriend, just to get you angry," Malfoy said with an attempt at his old swagger, at sarcasm, but it fell flatly.

Harry stared at him. "After all this … all _this, _you still think that it's _blood_ that's important?"

Malfoy blushed slightly in the dimness of the shadow, and said nothing.

Harry looked away from Malfoy, up at the window he needed to get to, not really hearing him anymore. Nothing else mattered, especially not Malfoy's attempts at getting back some of his old sense of self – he had a job to do.

"Look … I was going to use this to get away," Malfoy muttered, pulling something slowly out from behind his back. It was a broomstick. "I saw them coming and I knew something was going on … I've had it close ever since I … well. If … if you think you could use it –"

Harry could not believe his ears. Was Malfoy helping him? It almost seemed too good to be true …

"What's this? A cursed broom?" he said suspiciously. Two minutes.

"Fine," Malfoy snapped briskly. "If you don't want it …"

But Harry took it from him quickly, checking his watch.

"There's a window around the back near to the lake where you should be able to get in. But like I said. They know you're coming. They probably know you're already here."

Harry looked down. He wasn't going to say thank you; there was too much bitterness there, and besides, Malfoy could be playing him. But it seemed like he had little choice.

"Even if they do know, it doesn't matter. This ends tonight."

Malfoy looked at him curiously.

"What are you going to do?" Harry asked levelly.

Malfoy snorted. "I have no qualms about heroism, Potter. I'm going to run like hell, and you'll never see me again."

Harry mounted the broom, shaking his head. "You won't get very far."

Malfoy shrugged and turned away, scurrying off into the night.

"Break a leg, Potter," he muttered as the darkness swallowed him.

_Coward,_ Harry thought, and kicked off from the ground.

The cold air whipped his hair as he pulled his broom up short and looked down below him. Underneath, with no idea of who was above, another Death Eater stood a little further away, his wand raised like a torch; the beam of light fell across the grounds. Harry shot another well aimed Stunning spell at the Death Eater's head, veering away the second he had fired it. He knew his foe had been hit; but for the fact that his torch-light-wand was no longer moving, there was no evidence for it. The other Death Eater standing metres away would not know for at least a few minutes …

Harry flew, as if in a distorted dream, towards the chink of light that he knew hailed the second floor window Malfoy was referring to. He did not look up at the Dark Mark, hovering grotesque and khaki-green above his head, symbolising victory.

_You haven't won yet, Voldemort,_ Harry thought savagely.

And then Harry saw them; the first wave exploding out of the Whomping Willow and careering towards the Death Eaters on watch, wands aloft. The shout from the front runners pierced the night sky like a firecracker exploding. There were a few goblins at the front that appeared to be holding green fire in their hands; without so much as a battle cry, they had flung whatever they had been holding into two Death Eaters by the main doors, who were immediately set alight, screaming as the flames overran them.

Harry did not have time to marvel at the goblin's extensive use of magic, nor to take a moment and appreciate how much of a truly glorious scene it was to see beast and wizard fighting together to battle evil. Death Eaters were appearing everywhere, in places that Harry had not seen, and were advancing towards the first wave. The giants were just about realising what was going on and had started to lurch drunkenly towards the fray, swinging their tree trunk arms dangerously.

Harry hoped against hope that Hermione had, as she had said she might, lifted the Apparition restrictions for a time as he reached the window. Either way, the battle had begun.

- - - - - -

The window was partly open. Harry grasped the ledge and inched his way inside, as quietly as possible, propping the broom up against the wall. Luckily, the window was at the very back of the classroom and so he wasn't landing on anyone as he came in. Harry crouched in the dim candlelight and surveyed the situation.

There, as Malfoy had said, sat at least fifteen of Hogwarts' youngest, hugging their knees to their chests and looking positively terrified. There was one Death Eater by the farthest door, wand aloft, his eyes fixed on the children and his back to Harry. Despite this, Harry recognised him immediately; it was Mulciber, one of the Death Eaters he had fought at the Ministry with Neville, Luna and the others.

Harry did not move from his spot behind the table; if any of the first years saw him it would cause a stir, their panic overcoming their sense to keep quiet. Mulciber seemed distracted; it looked as though news of the first wave was filtering through the castle, room to room. It would not be long before the second wave entered through the one-eyed-witch's hump on the third floor … but would it be enough?

Harry waited for the perfect moment … Mulciber was peeking out the oaken door, clearly waiting for instructions as to what to do. Then, quite clearly, Harry heard a harsh and low bark of a voice shout from the corridor.

"You stay here and watch these!" it said. Harry did not recognise the tone. "The rest, _go_!"

And with that Mulciber turned around instinctively, and Harry struck. The freezing spell seemed to be the most effective; not only was it silent but it left no mess except a frozen Death Eater with frosted, surprised eyes.

Some of the children exclaimed in surprise, not knowing yet where the spell had come from. Harry hastily pointed his wand at the door and muttered _"Muffliato!" _to mute any sounds the Death Eaters rushing along the corridors may have heard.

The children in the room turned as Harry stood up slowly.

Some gasped with wide eyes, others began to cry.

"Is that …"

"It _can't _be!"

"Harry Potter!" came a ripple of murmurs. One child, possibly the smallest, broke free of the huddle of children and ran to Harry, throwing her arms around his middle: the highest part she could reach. Harry gently disengaged her, holding her at arm's length.

"It's OK …"

"Have you come to rescue us?" asked a small boy, still hugging his knees. "They said they were going to kill us!"

"Where are the other first and second years?" Harry asked, trying to keep his voice as calm as possible. It would not help if the youngest children saw their supposed savoir panicking.

There was no answer at first; they seemed to be too afraid to speak. Then slowly, a bigger girl at the back of the room raised her hand, as though she were in class.

"Yes?" Harry prompted eagerly.

"This is all of us … some of the bigger ones are in the next room," she said slowly, her face white. "But there are guards in the corridor …"

"OK … OK, I want everyone in here to join hands, really tightly. Can you do that?"

They stared at him.

"It's OK … you'll be safe if you all hold hands, I promise. Just … just imagine you're playing a game and you have to hold onto your friend's hand as tightly as you can."

They did so, slowly at first, but then much quicker as the prospect of safety began to sink in. Harry watched them, moving quickly between them to make sure they were all gripping tightly enough and leant his head at the door to make sure that no one was waiting to burst in on them …

"Hermione," he muttered under his breath. "Please …"

The children were all looking at him expectantly. Harry took the little hand of the nearest child and gripped it tight.

"OK … everyone ready? This will feel a little weird …"

And he spun as sharply as he could, visualising with every fibre of his being his destination; Order HQ. Hoping against all hope that they would not let go of each other, Harry embraced the tight-rubber-tube feeling of Apparition, and arrived much faster than he had expected in Kingsley's kitchen, where a harassed looking Mrs Weasley was waiting for him.

"Harry! Thank God! What's …?"

There was crack after crack after crack, and eventually every child that had been holding another's hand had materialised in Kingsley's kitchen. After realising that they were somehow now in a different place, many of them immediately began to cry, putting their hands over their ears; Harry understood; it had felt very strange when he had first Apparated, almost as though he .

"Mrs Weasley … these are the first and second years … I got them out as fast as I –"

"– But _how_, Harry?" Ron's mother interrupted.

"Hermione did a spell … but I think it'll wear off soon, so I'd better get back."

Mrs Weasley looked around distractedly as though she was not sure where to start.

"The Minister sent a message … all reinforcements are ready and waiting in Hogsmead to go in after the second wave … he said they're being sorted by Ron and Hermione …"

"Yes, that's good," Harry replied hastily.

And then, without warning, Mrs Weasley pulled him into a bone-crushing hug, holding him tightly to her.

"Oh, Harry ... I am _so _proud of you … your parents; they …" But she did not finish for her tears. Harry hugged her back and whispered in her ear –

"I'll bring her back, Mrs Weasley. I promise."

He stood back, smiled one more time, and Disapparated, leaving behind him frightened, confused and awestruck faces.

- - - - - -

Harry's mind had been so fixed upon Mrs Weasley's tear stained face and her mother-like affection for him that he had no idea where in Hogwarts he was Apparating to. He realised this moments before he materialised – directly in front of a giant.

As Harry himself moved his head upwards to take a look at the ugly brute, the giant itself lowered its huge head and peered at him. Slowly but surely a look of rage came over its bulbous features and it let out an ear-splitting roar, which made all the hairs on Harry's body stand on end.

Harry backed hastily away and gripped his wand, but he had no idea what spell to use on giants; his only experience with something similar was with the troll in his first year with Ron and Hermione, and all that had taught him was to hit it over the head with something hard; a fairly unhelpful piece of information seeing as how he had nothing of the sort with him right now.

The giant swung one of its arms violently with surprising speed and agility. Harry hurled himself to the left as far as he could and only just missed its flailing limb. Behind him he could hear movement; a Death Eater was watching him; he did not recognise who it was, but the face was twisted into a cruel smile, as though he enjoyed watching the sport. But then, almost as suddenly as the giant in front of Harry had swung its arms, something hit the Death Eater from behind with a loud _clunk_.

Harry scrambled to his feet and spun around, only to see someone he knew standing over the crumpled Death Eater, a club in his hand.

"Hagrid!" Harry exclaimed, and was then forced to roll out of the way again as the giant took its opportunity to launch a fresh attack. The giant roared in frustration as he missed again, but Harry had already raced to Hagrid's side.

"Hagrid … what happened to you?"

Hagrid bore marks of having been in a real battle; there were deep gouges in his arms and across his chest; a lividly purple bruise was forming under his left eye.

"Been held down with ropes," Hagrid said gruffly, "only jus' got away. No time, Harry, you get back in the castle … there's kids that need yeh!"

"What are you going to do?" Harry asked, eyeing the way the larger giant near them was gazing at Hagrid, its arms raised above its head.

"I'm gonna do what I woulda' done all along if I 'adn't bin held down!"

And with that, he raised his hands to his mouth, cupping them, as though preparing for a battle cry. It was something of the sort; a low, grumbling scream that reverberated through the very ground and felt as though it travelled up through Harry's legs and into his spine.

"Go, Harry!" urged Hagrid, his eyes on the Forbidden Forest, which was not far away.

Harry backed away, his eyes still on Hagrid and the Forest and the huge giant advancing on the smaller one with such fierce intent. But as Harry watched, he saw, quite clearly even in the darkness of the night, something emerging slowly from the shady trees. The angry giant could sense something; in any case, it ceased its advancement on Hagrid and turned only to see creatures of its own race moving towards it with obvious menace.

Hagrid let out the cry again and the giants coming out of the Forest descended upon the one attacking Hagrid. This caused many of Voldemort's giants to move forwards, lolloping towards the fray, and before Harry even knew what was happening, there was a full blown ruckus ensuing between giant and giant; enormous fists were thrown; ear piercing roars were bellowed; gigantic bodies fell with crashes that shook the ground under Harry's feet … even some of the fighters in the grounds turned around to see what was happening …

… and a Death Eater hit Harry with a curse from the right.

"_Turbo!_" came the cry from his opponent.

Harry's eyes had been so fixed upon the fight between the giants that he had not seen the cloaked figure creep up on him. It was a disorientating curse that Snape had forewarned him of; if he had not known the counter-curse, he may have been hit again and again, but luckily Snape had prepared him. Harry felt his brain going fuzzy, but before the curse could take its full effect, he gathered his wits as quickly as possible.

"_Laxo!_" Harry cried, not needing to do the spell non-verbally; the caster of the curse would not have known he knew how to parry it.

With the curse lifted, Harry raised his own wand and pointed it at what he now saw as a female Death Eater. Harry did not know why he was surprised; why should all the Death Eaters be men? What was unsettling him most of all was that Harry recognised this woman; even from beneath her hood he knew that he had seen her face in Azkaban that time they had gone … this could only mean one thing … that there had been a well-timed breakout.

Harry let the magic of the spell he wanted to cast flow through his veins. Then, he raised is wand and thought of the word clearly in his head.

_Somnus!_

This was another spell Snape had taught him; it did not kill, but if one took a direct hit with this spell they were forced into a deep sleep and could only be woken with a particular potion. Harry had been warned that the Death Eaters often used it too, when they wished to take their enemies alive …

The jet of purple light from Harry's wand hit the woman in the face. She yelled in surprise, raised her arms like a child to its mother, and then collapsed heavily onto her side, eyes closed, as though she were dead.

_Get back to the castle … there's kids that need yeh …_

Harry spun around and sprinted towards the now wide open oak front doors, light spilling out onto the rippling grass beneath. He passed a group of blue-robed Aurors, wands flashing with sparks like swords crashing against each other, locked in combat with two Death Eaters, who appeared to be losing. Harry did not stop but continued to run, past three giants head-butting giants, none of whom he could distinguish what side they were on, past a goblin that was running, screaming in pain as the spell it had been carrying had exploded in its face …

Harry leapt up the steps three at a time as a jet of orange light soared over his head, and through the front doors. The entrance hall appeared to be jam-packed; on one side there were what could only be students; third or fourth years by the looks of it, huddled around each other, surveying a ferocious attack directly in front of them. A student, possibly one dragged from the huddle, was being shamelessly mauled on the flagstoned floor by …

A werewolf.

Instinctively, Harry's eyes shot to the skies outside … but there was no full moon. Fenrir Greyback must have persuaded some werewolves to attack, regardless of their transformations.

Harry watched, momentarily held still by his own horror, and then the adrenaline kicked in.

"_Stupefy!_" he cried, pointing his wand at the werewolf's back, and the red jet hit the beast in the back. It spun around, dropping the boy, and gazed at Harry.

"Potter, eh?" the whiskered man mumbled. It was not Greyback, but this man was clearly of the same type. His matted face and black hair with blood stuck to it gave him the look of a wild animal.

The man stood up and barred his teeth.

"Not s'posed to eat you … not till after …"

"Why not?" Harry spat, his wand raised, ready to fight to the death.

The werewolf grinned menacingly, showing pointed and bloodstained teeth.

"What the heck, eh? I'm hungry"

And it charged at Harry on all fours, like an actual wolf, a mad deranged animal. Harry did not think twice. He raised his wand and struck before the wolf was five feet away …

"_Avada Kedavra!_"

It fell down dead, struck dumb. One of the students behind Harry started sobbing loudly, and Harry could see why. The student that had been attacked was dead; _very_ dead.

Harry moved cautiously forwards, unable to avoid stepping in blood, and recognised the face of one of the fifth years; he hadn't known his name, but that didn't matter … they were starting to fall, and it became clear that Voldemort was taking no prisoners.

Harry wanted to comfort the students, but he was stopped short by a sight up at the top of the great staircase. Looking down at him over the lowest banisters were at least fifteen Death Eaters, all of them with their wands raised, cruelly satisfied expressions on their faces. Then, with a cry of bravery, the second wave descended upon them from behind; they must have come through the secret passageway in the one-eyed-witch. Aurors in blue, red, yellow and purple were fighting like tigers with an array of spells, some of which Harry was sure he had not mentioned to them. The colours of their robes told him that they were the Americans, the Canadian, the French, and a couple of the Spanish.

The attacked Death Eaters wore expressions of surprise due to the international invasion; this had clearly not been expected and therefore there was a pause before any of them raised their wands. This gave the Aurors an advantage; two Death Eaters were blasted off the stairs and fell with sickening crashes at Harry's feet, which urged the others into action. A full scale skirmish took place on the stairs as Harry turned to the third and fourth years.

"Look …" he muttered hurriedly, turning to a small doorway to their left. "This is a big broom cupboard. I want you all to get in it and shut the door, you understand me? Seal it."

They stared at him.

"I can't Apparate you out anymore … you won't get away if you run. Trust me, seal the door, and don't open it. No matter what you hear."

They all rushed as one into the open door and were just about to shut it when one of the girls grabbed Harry's arm through the small crack in the doorway –

"Harry … are you really the Chosen One?"

She looked so frightened, and so hopeful.

"Yes. And I'm going to finish this. We'll get through it, you'll see. Now shut the door and stay in there."

There was a snap and a lasting image of grey faces before Harry was left alone. But not for long.

He turned towards the sound of a scuffle and saw a girl with dirty blonde hair and protuberant eyes fighting a Death Eater. There was a jet of light flying towards her and she ducked. Harry made move forwards to help, but there was no need. Luna fired a Paralysing spell that Harry had taught her during the DA meetings … that seemed so long ago, almost as though it was from another life. The Death Eater went rigid immediately and fell backwards into one of the fraying tapestries.

"Oh, hello Harry! This is quite an adventure, isn't it?" exclaimed Luna, as though they were meeting on the platform at Kings Cross, laughing and joking and ready to go back to school.

"Luna! Are you –?"

But he stopped short as there was screaming coming from the Great Hall. Turning towards the sound and away from Luna, Harry made to wrench open the doors, but it suddenly occurred to him that there could be fifty Death Eaters holding students hostage, quite ready to kill them all. What could he do by charging in? But he needn't have worried; through the front oak doors rushed a multitude of Aurors in blue; the Ministry's own.

"Potter!" said one of them, bleeding copiously from a gash to his shoulder. "Where do you need us?"

"You need a Healer," Harry said swiftly, "there should be some in Hogsmead, but I'm not sure how long it will be before Voldemort spills out into the town …"

"That won't happen for a while," said the Auror. "When you contacted the Ministry, the Militia were automatically alerted and they're guarding the perimeter … but permit me to say … sir … I don't want a Healer, I want to help."

Harry eyed up the gash. It was deep, true, but he knew how he would feel in the same situation and so wasted no time in trying to persuade him.

"OK … there are students in the Hall … we could storm it …"

"Sure … you want to go in all together?"

Harry considered. "No, split up, half and half, we'll go in the front doors, the others go around the back to the big windows and come in through them … use the spell _Fracta, _it'll cause the glass to shatter loads and you might distract them."

"Good … right, you heard him. Half around the back."

They followed Harry's orders swiftly and efficiently, and went back out the front doors. Harry and the others prepared themselves by the doors to the great hall.

They waited for about a minute; it was very hard to ignore the shouts from above, and from outside, but he could not help everyone at the same time …

Suddenly, almost as though he had not been expecting it, Harry heard the Aurors come in through the windows. He turned to the others.

"_Now!" _

They burst in to see the backs of the Death Eaters, their eyes on the intruders through the windows. Harry had half-expected Voldemort to be in there, but he was nowhere to be seen. Immediately the Death Eaters' attention was divided, which gave Harry and the Ministry Aurors time to strike.

Multitudes of colour flashed through the air as the Aurors made their spells, hitting some Death Eaters in the back, crumpling to their knees. Children were screaming, and some had taken to hiding under the huge tables that ran the length of the hall …

"_Somnus_!" Harry bellowed, his wand vibrating so much with power that it shook in his clenched fist. He hit one – two, and suddenly another jet of light ricocheted off the one already coming from his wand, so that he was hitting two at a time …

But the Death Eaters were fighting back. Green beams of light were now mingling with the coloured, and they were met with retaliation, and Harry soon realised that the battle was in full swing. He was continuously ducking as powerful forces swooped over his head, and found himself locked in combat with a particularly thin Death Eater, who was soon joined by another … and another – they were going to gang up on him.

Despite the danger however, Harry could not help noticing that the Death Eaters, how ever ferociously they were fighting and brutally aiming to kill the Aurors, were not firing any form of killing spell at him. He assumed, briefly, that this may have been on Voldemort's orders, but he couldn't worry about that at the moment.

The thin Death Eater fired a Stinging Hex at his torso, but Harry parried it without uttering a single word, and at the same time he fired the Killing Curse at another adversary about to Stun him without even thinking about it. The third one glanced at Harry with hatred in his eyes, and then seemed to change his mind; the Death Eater pointed his wand upwards, towards the stormy ceiling, and fired a devastating spell.

The jet of light hit one of the wooden beams below the bewitched ceiling, and with a crumbling crash as all eyes turned upwards, the beams began to fall. Harry looked around wildly; they were about to fall on some of the students huddled by the Ravenclaw bench …

"Move!" Harry yelled at them, but they were paralysed by fear.

Harry ran at them, grabbing a small wrist and wrenching sideways … the beam crashed to the floor and narrowly missed the other three children but hit two of them. As he cried out in horror, Harry almost didn't notice one of the falling beams catch him a glancing blow to his shoulder, driving him to his knees. With the child's hand still in his, there was a moment where Harry lost track of time, and then he coughed the dust out of his throat. The student next to him was thankfully alright, but there was no need to wonder at the fate of the other two, buried beneath the beam.

Some of the Death Eaters had been inadvertently hit by the falling structures; some were staggering upright, others lay still. Harry showed them no quarter; he shot a fatal curse at the one who had cast the spell with a snarl, cutting off his life force with uncharacteristic venom; another Death Eater tried to rise, but Harry struck her down too. He was aided by some of the Aurors who had also survived the beams, and before long, all of the Death Eaters who had taken the students in the hall hostage, were dead.

Harry stood up, trembling from head to foot. Students were dead; some were still dying, as were the Aurors around him. Where were Ron and Hermione … had they shared the same fate? And where was Ginny? If this had been a trap, as he had known it was, then where was the bait?

There was a moaning to his left; an Auror had been hit by a beam and was stirring feebly. Harry crouched and raised his wand, attempting to lift the rubble with a spell, but the Auror shook his head weakly. It was the one who had had the gash in his shoulder.

"No, Mr Potter … go and fight …"

"No!" Harry muttered, his wand still aloft. "I can help you, if you'll just hold on a second …"

"Leave me," said the Auror. "You've got important things to do …"

"No more than saving people's lives when I can," Harry said fiercely, and he uttered the spell to shift the beams. The Auror groaned.

"Ahhh … thank you. Now … g-go, go and kill him."

Harry nodded and left the walking wounded to tend to the others, his shoulder throbbing. The Auror was right; the sooner Harry finished off Voldemort the quicker the Death Eaters might admit defeat …

He burst back out into the main foyer to see that the scene had changed. Two of the giant hour-glasses had been hit by a forceful curse and the rubies and emeralds within were still falling with an audible rattle onto the flagstones below, a mix of muddy sparkling colour …

And yet in the midst of it was a full scale war; Harry found it hard where to look or to decide who to help. Multitudes of coloured robed Aurors were battling fiercely with the darkly clad Death Eaters who, at that moment, appeared to have the upper hand; there were more Aurors on the floor screaming than there were Death Eaters. Harry cast his eyes hazily out the oak front doors and into the grounds … the battle was raging there too, giants hurling each other twenty feet into the air, uplifting trees and crashing into the walls of Hogwarts, wizards scattering, students screaming.

Before he could draw breath something hit him from behind, hit him so hard that he went flying through the air so forcefully that some of those battling each other actually turned to look … he was heading for the grounds again, landing with an immense crunch on the wet grass directly in front of … Lupin.

"Harry! God, are you hurt?"

Harry had to hold his breath momentarily as all the wind had been beaten out of him. When he exhaled it came out in a shaky moan.

"On your feet … you're OK …" Lupin said, taking his arms and ducking quickly as a jet of light soared over their heads. "Have you seen Voldemort?"

Harry shook his head and scrambled to his feet. "What hit me?""

"Rookwood … Winding Spell … he's coming this way, Harry, watch yourself …"

But neither of them had seen the giant behind them. It swung an arm at Lupin who felt the air change a fraction moments before the great limb crashed down. Lupin shifted to the right slightly upon realisation, but it did not stop the blow from catching him.

"Remus!"

Lupin flew ten feet in the air and landed with in a heap by the edge of the forest. Harry drew his wand and scrambled over to him, but Rookwood had caught up with them –

"_Somnus!_" he yelled at Harry, using the very same spell that Harry himself had used only moments before; the jet of light soared over Harry's head and missed his left ear by centimetres.

_Effrego!_ Harry thought in his mind and let the magic come, hoping to shoot a bone breaking hex at Rookwood, but the spell flew some metres wide due to the fact that the giant that had hit Lupin was coming towards Harry with some purpose … but even as he turned his head slightly to the left, Harry could see a Dementor out of the corner of his eye; the first he had seen. Voldemort must have sent for them once he became aware of the Order's numbers …

Harry barely ducked the giant's huge swinging fist, but he could not avoid Rookwood's spell. He heard dimly above the noise of the fray –

"_Turbo!_"

Even though his brain was slowing down, Harry made a mental note of the fact that none of the Death Eaters were trying to kill him … perhaps they would leave that for Voldemort.

Rookwood advanced, his wand raised and his eyes narrowed cruelly; the giant swung around for another attack; the Dementor was drawing closer; Harry could feel its putrid breath on the back of his neck …

But just as he was about to be hit again with another spell, an arrow flew over his head with such a force that it made his hair stand on end. The arrow hit Rookwood directly in the heart and he fell backwards with a frozen stare, dead. As Harry rolled onto his stomach, another volley of arrows came directly over him and hit the giant in numerous places; the neck, the torso, the arms … it stumbled about, crushing many things in its wake.

Harry stared towards where the arrows had come from and saw, with some shock, that the centaurs were standing in a line as though preparing for battle, bows raised and faces fierce. They had decided to join forces with the Order!

With the wonderfully positive notion that their numbers were evening out and that they may actually have a chance, Harry turned to the Dementor and thought of nothing else but success.

"_EXPECTO PATRONUM!"_

The silver stag – his _father_ – shot out of his wand and charged the black beast down in an instant, but it did not disappear. Instead, Harry stood and watched as Prongs charged on, like a real animal with physical form, at a Dementor prowling not far away, and vaporised that one too. Still the silver beacon did not dim, but galloped on, searching out all the Dementors lurking in dark corners preparing to pounce on the unexpected. Harry's heart filled with emotion … his father was with him.

Harry turned anxiously back towards Lupin, who had someone kneeling down beside him; Cassie.

"Is he alright?" Harry asked her anxiously, clutching his shoulder as it gave a particularly vicious throb.

Cassie's eyes were wide and fearful. She shook her head. "There's too much damage to deal with here … it's too dangerous!"

"Can you get him to Hogsmead?"

Cassie looked as though she were on the verge of saying no, but then her gaze turned back to Lupin and her expression hardened.

"Yes."

Harry gave her a brief smile, totally confident that Lupin was nothing but safe with her, and charged back into the school.

He raced past duelling wizards moving so fast it was hard to tell which was which, past two goblins throwing fire at a giant, past three students who appeared to have decided to fight rather than run, but they were losing against a Dementor … there was a Thestral attacking a Death Eater, biting, kicking and screeching at the top of its voice …

He leapt the stairs three at a time, ducking sharply as a suit of armour came crashing down past him. There were students running past him, anxious to get out of the front doors. Some looked at him fearfully, some didn't even notice him but rushed past; Harry vaulted over the banisters at the top, Stupefying a Death Eater about to attack one of the German Aurors, but even as he did so he saw a man with dark matted hair and greedy eyes with blood dripping from his teeth … the werewolf Fenrir Greyback. And he was making towards a girl, a girl with bushy brown hair …

"Hermione!"

As Harry called her name, Greyback turned around and faced him with a fierce face.

"Ello, Potter …" he hissed through cracking, blooded lips.

"Get _away _from her," Harry said in a low voice, sounding much surer than he felt; his shoulder was aching like a dull anvil had been driven into his arm and he was still breathless, but if this was what was standing between him and Voldemort, so be it.

"Ooh, but she looks so _fresh,_ don't you think?" Greyback hissed. "Maybe just a little taste … I could do you for afters, Potter …"

"You won't," Harry cut him off sharply. "You're not allowed, are you?"

Greyback sniffed and licked his lips. "That's the rule, yeah. But I was never one for rules … I'm hungry, that's what I am, which is bad for you."

Whether he thought that Hermione didn't have the courage, or the nerve, or whether it was just that she was a girl Harry would never know, because the werewolf did not see her come up behind him and aim her wand before it was too late. There was a flash of green light and a scream of dismay before the spell hit him in the chest. Greyback stood tall for a second longer, and then crumpled to the ground, rolling agonizingly down the stairs before coming to a halt at the Thestral's hooves.

Harry turned to Hermione, who had tears glistening in her eyes and her hand pressed to her mouth; it had been her first killing spell.

"Hermione … are you alright?"

She rushed towards him and threw her arms around his neck, a sob escaping her lips.

"I didn't know if I could do it … but he was going to kill you, Harry …"

"It's OK … we all have to manage, but it's alright. Look, we don't have time, I have to –"

"Harry I'm so glad you're alright."

"Yeah, the feeling's mutual. Is Ron OK?"

She nodded. "He was alright when I last saw him, but that was minutes ago … listen, the whole Order is here now; we sorted everyone who came, and we're minus about fifty or so who said they'd come, but they fled … but, Harry, did you see? The Thestrals –"

"– and the centaurs, yeah I saw. So everyone is fighting?"

"Yes, the element of surprise is well and truly gone now, obviously … but the rest came in through the entrance at the side of the Quidditch pitch, which was manned of course, but they were distracted by the others in the castle …"

"I've got to go and find Voldemort … no one's seen him yet, and I can't find Ginny … Hermione, people are dying everywhere and I can't stop it. Not until I –"

There was screaming again, distracting him. But it was coming from further up, and it was moving. He turned his head and held his wand high. He knew that cry, and he knew that voice. It was Ginny.

Without saying another word to Hermione, Harry turned on his heel and darted through one of the tapestries, but it had caught fire. Harry brushed it aside, feeling nothing, and sprinted up the secret staircase. On and on he rushed, sure that he could hear the screaming, that it was not in his own head, but the faster he ran the clearer he could hear it …

"_Imperio!"_

"_No! Let me… you … let me go!"_

Harry burst through one of the doorways; there were not so many people up here; a couple of frightened students here and there; it was then that Harry realised he was on the seventh floor.

He noticed that he recognised one of the students hurrying away from the tower; it was Dean Thomas. He looked as though he had seen a ghost, and to him, he probably had when he had come across Voldemort. He didn't even see Harry as he rushed past him, and Harry heard him rush down the stairs.

Harry stopped and listened intently. There was distant shouting from downstairs, but he could disentangle that if he strained his ears …

"_No! You can't win this! Let me go!!"_

The Astronomy Tower. That's were she was, and that was where Voldemort was.

The corridor that led to the tower was to his left, and Harry turned on his heel and fled in that direction, but as he picked up speed, something caught him around the neck. Taking by surprise, it wrenched at the side of his head and choked him so that Harry had no choice but to fall to his knees and gasp.

The thing that had caught him was released immediately, but the wrench on his throat had bruised his whole neck and Harry felt as though his head was hanging on by a thread and was about to fall off. Eyes watering, he looked up to see –

– Lucius Malfoy. And he was swinging his hooked cane back and forth.

Harry coughed and rolled to his knees.

"Well, well, well. It's the charging hero."

His voice sagged with sarcasm and triumph, and it made Harry sick.

"Got out, did you?" Harry rasped, his throat still on fire. "Took you long enough."

Malfoy smirked. "You told me many months ago that I would die, and that you would be there, Potter, do you remember? Well, you are here, you were correct enough about that. But I rather think that it is _you_ that shall die."

"I don't have time for you, you piece of slime," Harry growled, getting to his feet, his voice still grating in his neck. "Bigger fish to fry and all that, no offence."

"Oh, but Potter you seem in such good shape … we can't have that, can we? Not unconscious yet? Let's see what we can do about that …"

Harry snorted humourlessly. "So that's it, is it? Typical. I should have guessed it would be this way. Voldemort doesn't want to face me unless I've lost an arm or something, is that right? You're all cowards, you know that?"

Malfoy chuckled and fingered his wand, his cane now under his arm. He looked like a business man.

"You still don't understand your place in all this, do you Potter? It's not about the terms. We win, and you lose."

"Get out of my way."

Harry was ready, quite ready in fact, to kill Lucius Malfoy. He was aware that the older man would not go down without a fight, which would take time; time he did not have … but there was a noise behind them both. Harry and Malfoy turned simultaneously.

"Hello, father."

"_YOU?!"_

It was Draco Malfoy, and he was standing there in the dimly lit corridor, his face white and pasty, but his eyes filled with such a deep passion that Harry had never seen before.

Lucius Malfoy opened his mouth and closed it again, but he rearranged his features so that he was surveying his son through narrow, almost amused eyes.

"You surely do have a death wish, my boy. Did I not make myself clear? I said I would kill you if you did not swear allegiance …"

"I heard you," Draco said bluntly. "Harry, go."

Harry stared at him. Draco Malfoy was giving him a way out; he was risking his own life in fact, against his father, to help Harry.

"A friend of the Mudbloods, are we? You astound me, child. I offer you everything and you throw it back in my face? Do you think that I will not strike you down? You think that in this war whether you are my flesh and blood matters at all?"

"Potter, go!"

Harry did not need telling a third time. He moved sideways at the speed of light, away from the two Malfoys. The elder did not try to stop him, but did not mask the snarl of irritation.

As Harry disappeared around the corner, Draco moved forwards to face his father, his hands shaking.

"I know it doesn't matter to you that I'm your son. That's what makes me different from you, father."

Lucius Malfoy narrowed his eyes. "You have made a bad choice, Draco."

Draco steeled himself and gave the smallest of shrugs. "It was my choice to make."

Lucius Malfoy raised his hand before his son did, but Draco did not shy away. This was a battle that had to be fought. To the death.

- - - - -

Harry barrelled through one of the oaken doors, oblivious to whether or not it had been locked; he even ignored the screaming pain in his shoulder and the ache around his neck. He practically fell through the doorway and stumbled out onto the moonlit cobbled stones of the tower with the stars above him, the long walkway jutting out in front of him and the stone wall to his left, the low battlements to his right.

At first, Harry did not see anyone there at all; his eyes were adjusting to the darkness of the night from the brightly lit hallway with all the spells flying around … and then he saw them, right at the end of the walkway. Voldemort was standing quite calmly, mutely white against the black sky, a thin smile upon his face. Ginny was feet away, her back against the overhanging battlements, her face rigid and wan, flanked by none other than Nagini, the enormous snake … the Horcrux.

As soon as Ginny saw Harry, she let out a little wail of despair.

"No … Harry," she whispered.

Harry swallowed. This was the first time that he and Voldemort had been face to face since the night at the Ministry two years ago; true, Harry had seen him in Hogsmead that time, and he had seen distant lost memories of Tom Riddle in Dumbledore's Pensieve, but this was the first real time since.

Voldemort's eyes appeared to have gained an even bloodier tinge to them, if that had been possible, and his face was even thinner than it had been in Harry's nightmares.

Harry was panting hard and his whole body was aching, but he faced Voldemort with his head held high. He had to make sure Ginny was safe, but he had to kill that snake before he could have a hope of doing anything else …

Harry held his hands up high. "Well? I'm here. I came. You must have something pretty important to say."

Voldemort shook his head, smiling. "Jesting at this hour, good Lord, Potter, how like your father you are."

The snake circled Ginny with its red eyes glinting in the moonlight. Harry said nothing, but looked at Ginny. She was staring at him with desperate eyes.

"Seeing as I came, you can let her go now. You don't need her for anything."

"Ahh … yes, the _girlfriend._ How many rumours I have heard about this young lady! She _is_ pretty, Harry."

Ginny spat at him.

Voldemort turned to her slowly and raised his wand.

"_No!"_ Harry shouted and started forwards, but the battlements behind Ginny simply fell away and crashed onto the grounds below. Harry's heart stopped for a second, but she did not fall, she just staggered a little, clutching the remaining turrets. Fighting couples below the tower turned to look up at the disturbance above. Before long, there were very few people fighting one another; even the giants appeared intrigued; everyone's attention was on Harry, Voldemort, Ginny and the snake above them.

"You see, Harry? I command the events, even now. You have fooled yourself into believing that you came because _you_ wish to. Correct?"

"You won't be commanding events for long," Harry said darkly, his eyes on the snake slithering across the stone floor.

Voldemort clasped his hands together in apparent amusement, his long fingers trembling with suppressed excitement.

"Yes! I have heard about your little quest to destroy my Horcruxes. Dumbledore's idea, I presume? Yes, very courageous, Harry. I am impressed. In that case, you would only have one Horcrux left to get. Well, then, why not take it now?"

"What?" Harry mumbled, taken aback.

"Yes, go ahead. I am giving you a clear shot at Nagini. Kill her."

Harry blinked, and then raised his wand instantly, afraid that it was a trick and Voldemort would laugh in his face and Vanish the snake before Harry was able to draw breath …

But he did not.

"_Avada Kedavra!"_ Harry exclaimed.

The snake reared up in surprise, its filmy eyes suddenly on Voldemort, as though he had betrayed her, but then the bolt of green light hit her long, thin body and she crumpled with a sharp hiss.

Harry's breath caught in his throat; was it dead? How can destroying a Horcrux have been as simple as that? Maybe it was different with animals.

"An excellent strike, Harry. What are you going to do now?"

Voldemort looked as though he was enjoying himself, which was odd, Harry thought, as he had just destroyed one of the last pieces of the shattered soul.

"What, you think I won't do it?" Harry snarled. "You think I won't kill you?"

"Oh, no, I think you _want _to … but you can't, unfortunately. Albus Dumbledore was not as wise as you all may believe, Harry."

Harry's head was spinning. What did this all mean?

"What are you talking about?" Harry spat. "You're finished! You've got no soul left! You killed everything I ever loved, and now you're going to die."

"You can't kill me, Harry. Even if you fired a curse, which I am sure you are able of doing, you would not destroy me."

Ginny too was gazing at Voldemort with unseeing eyes. Behind Harry, there were shouts and scuffles; perhaps it was Malfoy and his father, or maybe some people had realised what was going on up in the tower and had hastened to help.

"You see –"

But Harry had raised his wand. He let the magic flow through down his arm and suffuse his very being before speaking the incantation of a particular Stunning Spell in his head.

The light shot out of his wand tip with astonishing speed and power, and took Voldemort by some surprise. It did not, perhaps, have the full effect as he was able to block some of it with sheer mind power, but Voldemort staggered backwards, away from Ginny, who shot forwards –

"Harry!"

Harry grabbed her and held her close to him for a split-second, perhaps the last ever split-second, before pushing her roughly to the door he had just come through.

"Go, now!"

She wrenched the door open and disappeared before Voldemort had even straightened up.

Harry raised his wand again, hell bent on delivering a solid Killing Curse, now that Voldemort was off balance. The green light flooded towards the Dark Lord … but it was deflected by a thick transparent shield that he had conjured upon regaining his footing; the green light hit the shield and made a deep, reverberating gong-like toll.

"I see you have learnt from the turncoat, Severus. That is all very well, but he will not be able to help you now, Potter, this will not work."

But Harry grit his teeth, determined to not be intimidated, trying desperately to remember everything Snape taught him.

_You must destabilise him as much as possible before you deliver your fatal strike, or he will always deflect it …_

A few broken bones ought to destabilise the bastard, Harry thought savagely, and shot one at his nemesis. The spell his Voldemort in the arm, and Harry heard a satisfying crack, but Voldemort did not even so much as blink; perhaps his body was like his soul … so maimed and torn that it did not feel anything anymore.

Voldemort raised his wand as quick as if he were drawing a gun; Harry did not even have time to draw breath. All of a sudden, he felt himself hit with a spell he had been forewarned of; it acted like the Imperious Curse, but was not as recognisable until it was cast. This curse was more of mind control than magic, which was what made it so unrecognisable.

"Enough," spat Voldemort, his red eyes now flashing anger rather than amusement. In spite of his temporary mental prison, Harry felt a surge of satisfaction at having enraged Voldemort so.

Everything in his mind willed him to succumb to the pleasant feeling that would result from obeying, but Harry fought the spell.

_Be still,_ said the voice in his mind.

No. I'm going to kill you for everything that you've done to me.

_Be still._

No. This has nothing to do with the prophecy. This is for me, and my parents, and you can't stop me.

And Harry stood up, shaking the last of the spell out of his head, like an animal clearing its ears of water.

"Potter … your resisting is making this much harder than it has to be. Very well …"

And he shot another spell directly at Harry, who saw it coming and identified it as a Winding Spell, but his head was still so full of its last invasion that he couldn't summon up the brain power to repel it –

WHAM!

Harry was slammed into the opposite wall with such force that his head cracked backwards and struck the solid stone. As he crumpled to the floor, unable to breathe very well, he felt his eyes closing.

_Don't you dare, you give up now then everyone dies …_

The pain in his head reached such a height that he retched and gasped, willing himself to not pass out. He rolled over and found himself quite close to the edge of the tower; he could see people, Aurors, gazing upwards in alarm, watching the entire scene. He could also hear more shouts from the doorway up to the tower, but his vision was getting cloudy. He thought he could see a wall of Death Eaters over near the doorway trying to hold back Ginny, Lupin and Ron and Hermione, but they wouldn't have been daft enough to follow him, surely.

_Don't … get up …_

Voldemort took two steps towards him. "Perhaps now you will allow me to explain. You cannot kill me, because Nagini was _not _my last Horcrux."

Harry raised his head slowly. There were black lines around the edge of his vision and he thought he was going to throw up, but he could see Voldemort's sneering face clear enough.

"W-what?"

"Yes, she was not. But you are."

This did not register right away. It appeared that Voldemort realised that none of it penetrated because he crouched down in front of Harry, whose scar gave a particularly horrible lurch.

"You are the last Horcrux, Harry Potter. Do you understand?"

Harry blinked. He had been knocked silly. This was a dream.

"No … I'm not … that's stupid …"

"I can assure you it is not. I have only been aware of it myself for a short spell, but it is true."

"But … Dumbledore said –"

"– Albus Dumbledore said a lot of foolish things, but he did inform you correctly. I imagine when he was trying to prepare you with the task of vanquishing me, he told you that it was inadvisable to confide your soul in a Horcrux? Well, that remains true. I had not realised _what _you are, Potter, until recently. It happened a very long while ago, and I was unaware of it … life has many little paradoxes as such. But it has been risky at times … I cannot possess you without experiencing mortal agony; that is because you have another life besides the Horcrux."

Even as he struggled to see straight, Harry recalled Dumbledore's words to him the year before in his office …

_I believe he was intending to make his final Horcrux with your death …_

"But you didn't …" Harry mumbled, off the train of his own thought. "The Curse rebounded …"

"Yes, but the mark it left on you was enough. The spell to make my final Horcrux had been ready to use and when there was no murder to accompany it … my soul jumped when I was hit with my own curse."

Voldemort reached out and his wand traced the scar on Harry's head. Harry's eyes began to water. This was incomprehensible. All this time, he had the Horcrux _inside _him?

"I don't believe you."

Voldemort straightened up again, his black cloak billowing in the soft breeze. "That is neither here nor there, although ask yourself, why have I not yet killed you? As I'm sure you are aware, Potter, in spite of your little sessions with Severus, I could kill you in a second, especially now. But –"

"– if your last Horcrux is destroyed, you can be killed," Harry finished.

It was adding up; as much as it made Harry feel sicker than he had ever felt in his life, the more he thought about it, the more a tangible explanation appeared. He was the Horcrux.

"Thus; an ironic twist presents itself. Ever since I fell from power I have had the desire to kill you. And yet now, it appears that I have to keep you alive."

Harry swallowed painfully. The shouts from the doorway were becoming more insistent.

"That's why none of your scum killed me …"

"Yes."

"So what, you think I'm just going to walk away and promise to live forever? You're sick, Voldemort, you're deluded!"

"Oh no, Potter. You are going to stay somewhere where I can keep a close eye upon you. I presume from your Potions lessons you have heard of the Draught of the Living Death?"

Harry went cold. He felt as though he had swallowed an entire vat of icy water. So that was what Voldemort had in store for him? An eternity of sleep? It was worse than death … but Voldemort was smiling cruelly.

"All this time, I have wanted to see you suffer through death … for putting me through all the pain I have suffered … and now I shall witness as your life is lived – unconsciously."

It was quietening down from the doorway; perhaps they had heard what had been said and now wanted nothing to do with him, seeing as he had been a living Horcrux for seventeen years … who could blame them?

"Perhaps, in time, you may be awaken, and _persuaded_ to join the correct side, Potter. How powerful you would be, with my soul inside you."

"Never."

Voldemort's eyes glinted.

Harry stood up shakily, his knees threatening to buckle. "When did you know?"

"I realised a number of months ago, but it is of no matter. Whilst I may have been anxious that you may have been killed outright in one of your heroic little missions and I left vulnerable, I was confident that you would not die, as you are not unintelligent."

Harry realised when Voldemort was referring too; he recalled the time when he had become aware of a knowledge of Voldemort's … Harry had thought at the time that Voldemort had become aware of what he was doing, but in actual fact, he had become aware that Harry was Horcrux.

"Have you never wondered why you have been so lucky? Whilst I may have been unaware of it before and willing to rip your life from your body, I have been unable to. You think that was all luck? Or perhaps you believed it to be your own skill. Of course not … being my Horcrux will have contributed greatly."

Harry took a deep breath and looked right into the man who had marked his entire life and made it a misery.

"You'll still never win this," he said quietly. He knew what to do.

Voldemort snorted. "Perhaps I overrated your intelligence, Potter … you are here for the sole purpose of being 'kept'. I called; you came with your predictable nature, your heroism. How does it feel to know that your valour is the reason your side fell? With you out of the way, I shall take over and purge this world of the unworthy."

_You have a power that Voldemort has never had. You can love._

Harry could see that Voldemort was still talking, but all he could hear was Dumbledore in his head. Whether it was actually Dumbledore's voice, or whether it was Harry's own brain, he would never know.

_Know your truth, and use it well. This is my truth …_

Harry stood up straighter and gazed downwards.

_The Dark Lord will mark him … and he will have power the Dark Lord knows not …_

He could see the lake glistening in the moonlight below … he could see a shock of red hair and a person with glasses looking up … perhaps Mr Weasley.

_Voldemort should have known what he was dealing with, but he did not! He never paused to understand the incomparable power of a soul that is untarnished and whole …_

I can still stop him. It doesn't matter what I am. I can still finish this.

_The prophecy does not mean you _have_ to do anything! _

"You think you've got me figured out, don't you?" Harry said softly to the darkest wizard of all time. "You think you know me so well."

"I think I play on your weaknesses, Potter. I manipulated you tonight, and the world will pay for your weakness."

_If your last Horcrux is destroyed, you can be killed …_

"You can't manipulate me anymore," Harry replied, his heart beating like a drum.

_Let someone else do it._

Voldemort raised his wand – and Harry jumped.

Voldemort's bellow of fury followed him, and he heard Ginny's scream of horror behind him and his friend's cries, but they were like cobwebs in a gale. As he caught one last glimpse of Hogwarts, the glorious home he had been truly happy in, he closed his eyes as he hit the water, and allowed the icy Inferi embrace him and drag him below.

- - - -

**A/N: **OH MY! That was so tough to write. Anyway, it is NOT the last one, there is one more to come … and I am very reluctant to let go of it. I feel like JK! Please review and let me know what you think – I was very touched by some of the recent reviews. Really, they're lovely, so thank you.

Rosie xxx


	38. The Seventh Piece

**NB: Well my faithful reviewers … this is it. This could have been a lot longer, but I cut some of it because, in the end, it really didn't need to be. I don't really have much else to say other than … enjoy. **

_**MARKED

* * *

**_

"_He loved me… and that's enough."_

_Voldemort smiled cruelly. "No, my child, it isn't."

* * *

_

**THIRTY-EIGHT: The Seventh Piece**

For a few seconds, the battle scene was frozen all around the castle. Duelling beasts amongst the grounds let go of each other and turned their gazes towards the lake; the centaurs, busy with their quivers and arrows, dropped them clumsily and whipped their heads around; giants were struck dumb, sensing something enormous had changed; even those battling inside the castle with no clear view of what was happening outside stopped and noticed something from others' reactions before them. Up on the battlements, those members of the Order who had been trying to stop the Death Eaters dropped their wand arms and stared in disbelief.

Voldemort's shout echoed out across the now still and eerie grounds, travelling through the whispering trees, swaying slightly in the night breeze. It was as though, for those few breathless seconds, that there was no battle, no war, and all that existed was the natural world: the ripple of the grass, the lapping of the water and the moon above, so bright, bathing a scene of utter devastation in such a clarity that it would have wrought a cry from the bravest of men.

And then it was over; the spell was broken.

Ginny sank to her knees amongst the debris, stunned. Ron and Hermione, who had fled to the tower upon seeing the disturbance up there, screamed and shouted, leaping on the back of Death Eaters and scratching at their eyes to try and get down to the lake … Order members on the battlements flung themselves at Voldemort out of grief, anger and god knew what else, completely unaware that, now, it could make a difference.

- - - -

The pain was short lived; before long the icy grip of the Inferi affected Harry very little. Everyone he loved could be saved by what he had just done; he had not done as Voldemort wanted him to do, and he could never have been 'kept' as Voldemort had so eloquently put it. He did not open his eyes; he did not wish to see what was happening. Instead, he accepted that his air would run out soon, and that he would probably pass out.

_That's OK … there are worse ways to go_, he thought to himself. _And I'll see my family again … _And soon he was not afraid.

There it was; the blackness on the edge of his vision, his lungs trying to expand but finding nothing. There was a strange ringing in his ears, and he knew that it was not the Inferi's triumphant screeching, but in his own head.

_This is going to be an adventure,_ Harry said aloud to himself, but of course no sound came out, and he let the last of the air escape through his lips.

- - - - -

"Protect the Dark Lord!"

"Shield our master!"

Cries of the Death Eaters rang out and mingled with each other in the night air. Those who had been aware of the truth now threw themselves in front of Voldemort, taking hits that had been meant for him, crumpling in seconds. The Order were fighting harder than they ever had before; something in what Harry had done had awoken a new violence in them and Death Eaters were dying all over the place.

Voldemort was bent over, his face obscured by his dark cloak and the lack of light. In a sudden movement, he straightened upwards and flourished his wand like a sword. An orange fire erupted, hot and powerful, from the tip of his wand and engulfed at least three Aurors fighting Death Eaters metres away.

"I do not need your protection, fools," he said thinly in a horrible, high voice.

It was absolute mayhem. In places where the battle raged below, wands had been discarded and wizards were fighting hand to hand, rolling on the ground, kicking, punching and biting. Amidst it all, Remus Lupin detached himself from the fray, sweat and tears blurring his vision, and raged forwards. The doorway was blocked; there was no way down to the lake, no way down to where Harry was …

_It had not happened … it could not have happened … _

There was a violent terror tearing at Remus's heart … he had to get to Harry and he had to drag him out … Harry could not have died … not yet … not now.

"Lupin!" came a piercing cry from his left.

It was Ron, and he was signalling to something over the edge of the battlements.

"This way!"

Remus ran forward to where Ron was, leaping over the body of a decapitated Death Eater, who had clearly caught the wrong end of a spell. Ron was leaning over the edge, his face frantic, pointing to something below.

Part of the battlements had collapsed onto the balcony below; if they jumped in exactly the right place, they could get from tier to tier, and down to the bridge below where there was a staircase to the lake …

Ron went first, clambering down over the edge of the balcony and stumbled a little on landing, dust rising from where he was wobbling. Lupin followed suit, and the pair of them continued their dangerous climb down, over the crumbling edges of the turrets, scraping their arms, legs and elbows.

Before long the staircase was near enough to jump to. It had been badly hit by a few stray spells; big chunks of stone were missing from the top of it, but thankfully they only needed the bottom end. Ron swung himself slightly by holding onto the tier above, and made the jump. Lupin copied him, his heart beating a violent tattoo against his throat. As they both began to race down the steps, there was a cry from above and a jet of electric blue light started to race towards them. Whether it had been deliberately fired by a Death Eater or an accident from an Auror, they did not know, but as it hit the top of the staircase, they both began to wobble. Cracks were spreading rapidly through the structure with an awful cracking sound, and Ron and Lupin sped up as quickly as they could; just as the entire staircase swung to the right, about to crumble, both leapt from where they were, about twelve feet up, and landed with a bump onto the soft grass below.

Ron got to his feet first, ignoring all his aches and pains, and stumbled blindly towards the lake.

"Come _on!_" he said desperately. "If we can't get to him …"

Lupin did not answer or finish the end of Ron's sentence. Instead, they both sprinted as best they could towards the glittering lake, dodging giants, although there were considerably less of them standing now.

The lake looked as though it was playing host to a vortex of some sorts; there was a huge disturbance near the middle; water was spraying everywhere and the green liquid was frothing and flying up and down … Ron knew with a sudden jolt that it was no vortex; it was the Inferi having a feast.

- - - - -

Severus Snape plunged blindly on, drawn to the sound of screams, shouts and the blazing lights of fire. He had seen what had happened from where he had been surging through the forest, branches of which now tore at his face and his battered and beaten body.

_Potter jumped … _that could mean only one thing, and the very thought wrought a shudder from within his bones.

He emerged from those hateful trees, bleeding and disorientated, but then he saw a young boy with red hair and a tall man, both clearly in distress. The boy, who he now recognised as Ronald Weasley, was starting towards the lake, to where the Inferius were swarming …

_Fools … they'll be killed, _he thought, and trudged wearily towards them.

- - - - - -

"They … they hate the fire …" Ron whispered, staring at the spot where he believed Harry to be submerged. "You … you hold them off and I'll go in …"

"No, Ron, your Bubblehead charm will not hold for long enough, and a single Inferius could kill you in an instant!"

"But I can't hold off so many of them for long … you'll have to do it! And I'll try and get him …"

"Ron, you can't … you'll die … let me …"

"I DON'T CARE!" roared Ron. "I CAN'T LOSE HIM, HE'S MY BEST FRIEND! HE'S WAITING, AND I … I WON'T JUST LEAVE HIM THERE!"

Ron started towards the lake, throwing off his cloak, but he was knocked flying as a much taller man with greasy black hair barrelled into him and send him sprawling.

"You stupid child, " Snape muttered, righting himself as quickly as he could.

"_YOU_!" Lupin cried, his eyes suffused with a hatred that no one had ever seen before. He drew his wand and pointed it at Snape, ready to strike … to kill.

"Wait, Lupin, no! He's on our side …" Ron spluttered, rolling onto his knees and seeing the oncoming trouble … no one except Harry, Ron and Hermione had ever known about Snape … that was until Pettigrew had hastened to tell Voldemort what had been going on that night in the graveyard …

"Get out of the way, Ron," Lupin muttered, raising his wand.

There was a disturbance behind, and Ron saw Hermione sprinting towards them, her eyes wide and her face hysterical. There was blood on her face and on her shirt, but she seemed to not have noticed.

"_Ron!_"

Meanwhile Snape did not say a word, but considered Lupin with an almost somnolent regard.

"No!" Ron cried, on his feet again. "Lupin, Harry's been working with him … Dumbledore told him to kill him … he's here to help!"

"It's true, Remus!" Hermione gasped, coming to a halt beside Snape, her eyes on the lake. "We have to trust him!"

"You think I'm just going to –"

"WE DON'T HAVE TIME FOR THIS!" Ron bellowed. "Harry's … he's …"

"You must all cast a powerful fire and direct it at the disturbance," Snape started, shaking off his torn robes. "It must be strong, or they will overcome it … I will go and get him out."

"What …" Lupin started, but Snape had already cast the Bubblehead charm. As he moved away, Lupin struggled against Ron and Hermione, who were each holding his arm.

"He's _good_, trust us!" Hermione pleaded. "Harry trusted him in the end, and so did Dumbledore … please Remus, this isn't the time!"

"He'll kill Harry," said Lupin darkly. "You'll see. Either that or he'll hand him over to Voldemort straight away …"

"We've got to cast the fire, come on!" said Ron distractedly, and raised his wand.

Perhaps it was the context of the situation, but none of them, not even Lupin, had ever cast such a powerful Fire Spell before in their entire lives. The white hot blaze erupted from their wand tips and spread over what appeared to be the entire lake. Before long, the red hot flames licked the limbs of the Inferi breaking the surface who recoiled, clearly in pain. As they held the fire, difficult and exhausting though it may have been, more and more of the soulless dead beings swam away from the centre of the lake where Harry had fallen and took refuge in the dark shallows on the opposite bank.

How long the three held the spell, they could not tell to this day. They ignored the pain in their arms and the screaming in their heads, but kept it up, hoping and praying to see Snape emerge … any minute now.

But he did not. Ron couldn't hold his arm up any more and let it drop, sobbing. Hermione too was weakening, and for a whole two minutes none of them said a word. Hermione raised her wand again when a dark figure materialized in the darkness and lumbered towards them, thinking it was a stray Inferius, but Lupin, who was the only one still holding the spell, finally let his arm drop and rushed forwards into the lake with a cry of thankfulness.

Snape was stumbling and choking, the Bubblehead charm having worn off, and slumped over his shoulder was the limp form of a boy.

Lupin took Harry in his arms, leaving Snape to fall into the wet reeds in exhaustion, and staggered up to the bank. Ron got to his feet and Hermione blundered towards where Lupin had lain Harry down.

"Oh, my God," she cried.

Hermione lit her wand so they could see, and gasped when they did.

Harry's face was white and he was cold.

"Harry … _Harry …_" Ron called over and over again, wringing his friend's hand and shaking him slightly.

"He's not breathing …" Lupin said as he bent over Harry with his wand.

"_Rennervate!" _But nothing happened. "RENNERVATE!"

Lupin cried the spell over and over, but Harry's eyelids did not even flicker.

Ron pushed Lupin slightly out of the way and bent over Harry's body to start CPR.

_One … two … three … four … five … six … breathe … one … two … three …_

"Come _on, _Harry!" Hermione pleaded, tears falling thick and fast from her eyes.

But Harry did not breathe. Hermione put her head on his chest, and after a moment's pause she gave a dry sob.

"I … I don't think his h-heart's beating anymore… it's stopped …"

"No, it can't have done … get out of the way, Ron …"

Lupin pushed Ron roughly and started to bang on Harry's chest, hard …

"Come _on!_ Don't do this, Harry … come ON!"

"Remus, don't … you'll hurt him …"

But Lupin either could not hear Ron or would not listen to him. Again and again he pounded his fist relentlessly downward as though he were beating the devil to death …

Eventually, Hermione managed to stop him, or perhaps Remus simply gave into the incomprehensible truth. Either way, he stopped trying and gave into Hermione's light pressure on his trembling forearm.

"It's … it's too late … he's gone, Remus. He's gone."

Slowly, very slowly indeed, Lupin got shakily to his feet, his senses picking up the various sounds that he had blocked out before; the shouts, the screams, the blasts …

He was dreaming now. He must have been dreaming. Ron and Hermione were crying again, this time hysterically. They were kneeling down … and he could see what he wanted … Harry was opening his eyes, coughing up water … if only he had gotten to him a minute earlier …

"Lupin! Are you blind?"

Ron's voice jolted him from his fantasy. He looked down. But he was still dreaming, because Harry was alive …

"He's what?"

"He's _alive_!"

Lupin blinked. He was not dreaming. Harry was still coughing, still gasping, but his eyes were open. Rushing to his side, Lupin cradled Harry's head with his hand.

"My God … he's … you're …"

There was a long pause, and then Harry spoke.

"You shouldn't … you shouldn't have done that," he said in a weak and hoarse voice … but it was Harry's voice alright.

"Oh, Harry … we thought …" Hermione began, kissing his face over and over again. "What were you _thinking_? Jumping like that? Why –"

"Because I had to …" Harry muttered, feeling as though his lungs had been wrung out in a steel vice. He felt numb, as though he was not really there.

"I'm the Horcrux …"

"_WHAT?!"_

"But how …"

"It doesn't matter …" Harry mumbled and sat up slowly against their protests. He felt as though he had been to hell and back. "Someone else could have killed Him …"

For a second, Harry wondered why all three of them weren't recoiling in disgust at the knowledge that he had a part of Voldemort's soul inside him, but that didn't matter now.

Slowly, Ron opened his mouth.

"But …but your heart stopped … how could you think we wouldn't have tried to bring you back?" said Ron, dumbstruck.

Harry looked at him. "It did?"

"Did what?"

"Stop? My heart stopped?"

Ron frowned, still holding Harry's hand tightly from when they had laid him down. "Well, yeah. You were dead mate, for a good few seconds there … you were as dead as a dodo."

Almost as though he had been reborn, thoughts began to race through Harry's brain, thoughts he had not had before, as though he were a new and different person.

_My heart stopped … I died … for a whole couple of minutes, I died … _

Could this mean what he thought it meant? As he sat up and shook his head, clearing his ears of lake water he felt something he had never really felt before, and had never had the experience of feeling. It was almost like a sudden lightness in his chest and, although it hurt, it felt like there was no burden anymore … like there was nothing expected of him. For all of his life, Harry had been a marked man, marked with a destiny, marked with a Horcrux that he hadn't truly been aware of … it was the reason he had lost almost everyone he had loved, and the reason he had been unable to stay with Ginny. And now … now it felt as though it was not there anymore.

"Harry …" Hermione whispered, unwillingly breaking his reverie. "Perhaps you should lie down …"

Ron snorted. "Not here … the battle's worse than ever … I think the Death Eaters are gaining on the Aurors and everyone …You Know Who'll be in power soon."

"What are you thinking, Harry?" asked Lupin suddenly.

Harry looked at him. "Voldemort only found out I was a Horcrux recently … he didn't do it intentionally … he was going to keep me asleep because he thought I was the most powerful Horcrux … then wake me up years later and turn me –"

"– wait a minute … _how …_" Ron began, but Hermione shushed him.

Harry let another hacking cough wrench his guts, and then continued his train of thought as the others looked at him with deep concern.

Harry repeated the mantra that had plagued his mind for what felt like forever aloud. "Something of Ravenclaw's, something of Hufflepuff's … something of Slytherin's … and something of Gryffindor's. He did get them all … it was –"

"– you?" Ron supplied, his eyes wider than Galleons.

Harry opened and closed his eyes; his head was throbbing and he could still feel the icy grip of the Inferi upon every limb …

"He wasn't worried up there because he thought … he thought I wouldn't do it … Dumbledore said he underestimated a whole soul … so he was just going to bide his time and wait until he could make more … but if you say that my heart stopped …?"

"Then maybe the Horcrux died?" Lupin finished for him.

"Yes," Harry replied. "But if Voldemort thinks that I'm dead, he's going to try and make another one as soon as possible, because he's vulnerable now … I doubt he'll be choosy this time, life and death and all that."

"It's worth a shot," Ron said seriously.

"There's no guarantee that your death … however temporary, would vanquish the Horcrux," Lupin said in a low voice, his eyes never leaving Harry's face.

"No … but everything we've done so far seemed to work that way," said Ron, his voice shaking slightly as the tree that was mere metres away erupted in a ball of orange flame as a spell hit it. Luckily, no one had noticed them yet.

"Yes," Harry concurred. "The diary … I just rammed a fang through it … the Cup, we broke it … Slytherin in the locket … I had to kill him … it does fit."

"But … Harry," Hermione began in a pacifying tone. "You're weak … your heart just stopped beating for over two minutes … you can't go up against him again!"

"No," Harry said. "I feel … I feel different. I feel stronger."

"Then perhaps we are all saved," Lupin said with a brief attempt at a smile. "Perhaps we have a chance at last …"

"Where's Snape?" said Ron suddenly.

"Snape?" Harry repeated. "Is he here? I thought he'd be dead."

"He saved your life, Harry," Hermione told him, her face grave. "He went into the lake and got you out … I don't know how, but he did. He was just over there … I wonder where he went …?"

Harry was speechless for a moment. What on earth could he make of that? Snape saving his life? Snape alive? Snape … gone?

"Come on," said Lupin briskly. "Voldemort's on the move ... if we don't attack soon, he'll have the whole damn castle."

- - - - -

They shuffled through the undergrowth around the edge of the grounds, trying to avoid being seen. If Harry was seen alive, every Death Eater and Dark creature would doubtlessly converge upon him and drag him to Voldemort where he would be put into an unwilling sleep for God knew how long …

But they could not hide for long. Voldemort had since come down to the grounds; he stood framed in the great doorway, the oak doors of which had long since been blasted off into the night. Giants lay in crumpled messes before them, children lay in innocent heaps next to Death Eaters and the Aurors, whose robes were so colourful and diverse that it looked as though a rainbow had fallen sadly from the sky, and was scattered across the grass.

"It looks like he's about to do something," said Hermione in a shaking voice.

It was true; Voldemort was being flanked by at least six Death Eaters on each side; some of the other beasts had stopped fighting and were looking at him expectantly. It seemed, as the four crouched there watching, that the Death Eaters and Voldemort had won: there was a group of about thirty people, Aurors and adults and students who were being held by a magical bond, unable to escape. There were some other instances nearby where Aurors and students were being physically restrained by Death Eaters, some who had them in half-nelsons or arm locks, or who were training their wands on a bunch of them. With a rush of fury, Ron grabbed Harry's arm and nodded to where he could see his father, Mr Weasley, in the clutches of two Death Eaters, both with broad grins upon their faces. Harry could just see through the doorway, and through some gaping holes in the walls of the castle, that many of the younger students and some teachers were held at wand-point on the floor, or up against the wall.

"Attention, those who chose to stand against me," Voldemort called suddenly out over the grounds. His voice was high and shrill, and many of the students and Aurors alike looked terrified, many of whom had refused to speak his name for years and years for sheer fright, now finding themselves being addressed by him.

"I do not believe there are any of you left fighting, or standing. This would present us all with the conclusion that you … are the losers."

He let this statement sink in. Some who were still fighting with the Death Eaters and the werewolves stopped struggling and sank to their knees. It had the desired effect.

"This means that _you _are now _all _in MY power."

Harry grit his teeth. How could he finish this now? With almost the entire army out on the grass in the midst of the devastation they had all caused, and with all of his people in submission?

"This may suit some of you," Voldemort continued, twirling his wand. "The some of you who are of good blood and good mind may benefit from this power change. You may even find yourselves in a better position then before. Those of you who are of poor blood and poor mind will have to consider your position very carefully … or else you may find yourselves … _disposed _of."

Voldemort surveyed his captives with relish, and a slight impatience. It was clear that, although he was enjoying this power play, there was something he wished to have done very quickly. And Harry knew what it was.

"But before we set the ground rules, there is a matter that must be addressed immediately.

Harry turned quickly to Ron, Lupin and Hermione behind him and whispered hoarsely.

"Listen … I'm going to make my move in a minute … I'll walk out and it'll shock him to see me at first. You need to take advantage of that. Ron, you free that group over there held by the binding spell. The counter-curse is _Liberati_. Hermione, you Stun those Death Eaters over there holding some of the Aurors. Remus … can you see the rest of the Order inside the castle?"

"Yes," Lupin replied, staring at the point where Harry was indicating.

"You need to run forwards and get them loose. I'll need as many fighters back in the fray when Voldemort realises what's happened … the Death Eaters will try and storm me, there'll be no pleasantries anymore … it's all about winning. Can you all do that?"

They nodded sternly.

As Harry steeled himself to make himself known for the last time, Voldemort was still speaking.

"Some of you may have seen the _great _Harry Potter plunging to his death moments ago …"

This was punctuated with a few dry sobs from various points of the grounds; some were from students, who clearly believed that all hope had been lost.

"And although seeing his life extinguished was something I have been longing for throughout the entirety of his sorry existence, it has left me with a slight predicament. It begs the question … _do I have any volunteers_?"

There was a rustle of fear which swept through the grass. No one knew what he meant, but it sounded threatening …

"No volunteers to help me resolve the problem that Potter so ungraciously left me with? No? That's a pity. I shall simply have to pick one at random."

And he strode forwards, as though he were taking a leisurely walk in the park, and held out his long, white fingered hand. A small boy was thrust forwards.

Harry felt sick … what if Voldemort killed the boy just as he made his move? Or worse held him at ransom?

"Now young man, feel gratified that you are taking the place of The Boy Who Lived … a murder is nothing compared to what shall be in store for many of you who do not conform … let this be a lesson to you all … and a reminder … that Harry Potter, the _great _saviour you all believed him to be, was – in the end – a coward and a failure …"

"THAT IS _NOT_ TRUE!"

Voldemort turned his head sardonically to the source of the outburst. Harry too, in spite of the situation, looked to where it had come from.

"HE WAS NOT A FAILURE! HE DIED TO SAVE US! I KNOW YOUR SECRET! I KNOW HE WAS A HORCRUX! I HEARD YOU!"

It was Ginny.

"Oh, God, Gin, don't …" Harry muttered aloud. He was elated to see her alive, speechless that she was OK and proud that she still believed in him … but she was about to get herself killed.

At her outburst, there were some whose faces showed complete astonishment, and even though their uprising had been quashed by the Death Eaters, werewolves and giants, it was clear that they were shocked. _Potter, a Horcrux?_

Voldemort released the young boy he had hold of immediately, who scampered off as fast as he could towards an older student, who immediately comforted him.

"No volunteer needed," he said softly. "I was really hoping, my dear, that it would be you."

Hands seized Ginny from all angles. She was shunted forwards, kicking, screaming, biting and punching, to where Voldemort stood in the centre, his red eyes alight with a feverish excitement.

"Ginny … do not be scared … this act will be very quick … it should not hurt, as my only desire is to make another _object_, as you appear to know, you clever girl."

He sounded like an uncle indulging a favourite niece. Harry clenched his fists and readied himself.

"After all … isn't this what you want? You will see your love again, won't you? United in death … unless of course you are both sent to hell."

"You'll go to hell, Voldemort," Ginny whispered. "No one will ever love you … they're only afraid of you."

She was crying, but Harry could see that they were not tears of fear, they were tears of anger, and he saw quite clearly in that very moment, how much she was prepared to sacrifice for him. Harry could see Bill out of the corner of his eye wrestling with another Death Eater, desperate to get to his sister, but then he was borne to the ground by the solid arm of a giant.

"Let us get on with this unpleasant example, shall we? A murder to begin with, and then perhaps any others will think twice about their positions … any last words, my dear? Any dying sentiments to your deceased lover, who loved you so much that he chose to end his own pain rather than fight?"

"He loved me… and that's enough."

Voldemort smiled cruelly. "No, my child, it isn't."

"Yes, it _is_," said Harry.

Voldemort turned extremely sharply and his attention left Ginny completely. Harry could tell that the rest of his minions were simply not attacking him right there on the spot due to their complete astonishment at his presence.

In those breathless, haunting few seconds, Ron, Hermione and Lupin stormed forwards.

"_LIBERATI!" _Ron bellowed, pointing his wand at a group of Aurors metres behind Voldemort, whilst simultaneously Hermione shot no less than five Stunners at the Death Eaters congregating around members of the Order. Lupin took advantage of this and sprinted towards the blasted oak front doors to free those inside.

All of this happened in the space of about six seconds, and Voldemort was distracted not only by Harry standing miraculously in front of him, but also by the charging Order to his left, freed by Hermione, and by the upstart of the battle again. It seemed, though, that he was going to ignore the rest of the fray as he turned back to Harry, regaining his composure quickly.

"Well, well, well, Potter. I must give credit where credit is due. I know that many believe you to be special, but even I, who have some experience in the matter, wouldn't have believed you to cheat death."

Harry shrugged. "What can I say? I'm awkward like that."

And Harry raised his wand. _You must destabilise him as much as possible before delivering the final blow, or he will block it … _

"_Effrego!" _

Voldemort blocked the bone-breaking hex and shot something at Harry that looked like molten lava; Harry barely had time to duck, and felt the heat of it graze his head.

Before Harry could even regain his composure, he saw a jet of green light soaring towards him; Voldemort clearly wasn't going to waste any time; he knew he was vulnerable, and that the battle had started again, and he clearly wanted to kill Harry as quickly as possible … which could mean only one thing … that Voldemort too believed the Horcrux to be gone.

Harry flung himself behind the collapsed body of an enormous giant and felt the ground shake as the pockmarked corpse took the full whack. He hardly felt himself hit the ground; before, everything had hurt, everything had felt hard. But now, now he knew that he could win for sure, the adrenaline was stronger than ever.

As he rolled out from behind a pungent foot, Harry raised his wand again, ready for a new attack.

_Gelidus!_ he thought hard in his head, aware of the advantage of a non-verbal spell, and Voldemort was deluged in an icy white mist, unable to see. He gave out a roar of frustration, and Harry took advantage of this immediately –

"_Morsus!"_ he yelled, knowing the mist would prevent Voldemort from being able to tell what the spell was before it was too late … and the result was that a painful curse was fired and struck true, right in his chest.

The power of the curse was greater than any spell Harry had cast; seeing Ginny helpless and crying at Voldemort's feet had done more in the last five minutes than any other stimulant could have achieved, and he honestly didn't believe he could hate Voldemort any more than he did right at that moment.

The Dark wizard actually cried out; something Harry had never reduced him to before, and clutched his bony, exposed chest with long and white fingers. Harry gritted his teeth and believed that this was it; this was the moment in which he was going to kill Voldemort.

But the first letter of the curse had hardly escaped his lips when a heavy body from behind grabbed him and hurled him in the opposite direction; Harry landed hard and was momentarily disorientated before he was back on his feet again –

But another figure drew back a fist and, all magic forgotten, punched him in the face. Harry fell back, dazed, but angry. He had been so close!

As he tried to raise himself again, the figure that had hit him bore him to the ground again, and laid on their whole weight; it felt like another Death Eater had joined in too, and Harry found himself unable to move, pinned to the ground, unable to see anything under a pile of bodies.

He struggled and strained, but it was to no avail. A kick flew out of nowhere and landed itself in Harry's stomach, and so he stopped flailing his limbs quite as violently as what felt like ten pairs of hands hauled him upwards.

Voldemort was straightening up, his red eyes narrowed into slits, anger and fury etched into every line upon his gaunt face. His lips were twisted in pain: Harry's spell had had the desired effect, and if only had he not been stopped by the Death Eaters …

"That … that was impressive, young man," Voldemort uttered gutturally. "But you will not win this. Do you know why?"

"Because you're a coward?" Harry spat hoarsely, the last of his strength leaving him at the injustice of it all. "Because you know I can kill you, and you get your pals to give you a hand?"

"Because you are not that special," Voldemort spat in anger. "You may think you are, you might evade death once in a while … do you have any concept of how often I have done so?"

"I'll take a stab at six times."

The Death Eater directly behind Harry kneed him in the back.

Voldemort raised his eyebrows. "I am aware that war is about winning a battle; that it is about numbers, and never personal. But know this, Potter: killing you now, here in front of all your friends and followers, will give me the greatest satisfaction incomparable to anything else I have ever achieved. You will die because you, as I said, are _not_ extraordinary."

Harry smiled truthfully, and looked at Ginny in the distance. "She thinks I am."

Suddenly, there was a loud bang and the hands holding Harry loosened. He wriggled out of their clutches and moved slightly out of the way to see – Snape.

Voldemort snarled and raised his wand, but Snape was too quick. He fired something from his wand at the speed of light at Voldemort, who yelled out and lost his balance slightly, trying to right himself. As Snape raised his wand again, Voldemort shot a spell at him from the ground; Snape fell …

"_Now_, Potter!"

Voldemort was casting another curse at Snape as the old Potions master yelled his last, and did not see Harry straighten up behind him.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

It seemed to take an age. In that time, the fighting stopped again. The green light sped quite fast, but it felt like it was slow motion. Voldemort held up his arms fruitlessly against the Unblockable spell, knowing that there was no countering it, knowing that he had been beaten by a better man, and opened his mouth in surprise as the jet hit him squarely in the torso. His eyes flashed red, one last time, and then he fell, quite softly and unremarkably onto the wet grass behind.

Harry did not take his eyes off Voldemort's crumpled form, nor did he lower his wand arm. It couldn't be over, not really. Not after everything that had happened that night, that had happened throughout his life … Voldemort couldn't be dead, not like that.

His wand arm began to shake. A soft breeze ruffled his hair; he could hear a rustling of leaves, and still Voldemort had not moved.

"Harry," said a voice behind him. Harry turned and saw Lupin looking at him, his eyes wide, his face disbelieving.

And then, as though a switch had been flicked, some of the Death Eaters in the grounds, in the castle, up on the turrets and by the edge of the forest, threw their wands down in front of them. Others turned and ran, leaving dead comrades behind them, or else suffering victims, but run they did, and into the darkness they disappeared. No one tried to follow them. All other eyes were on the boy who stood metres away from the dead form of the most dangerous wizard of all time.

People were beginning to move; those that could still stand got to their feet and moved tentatively towards Harry.

A muttering broke out, like a hesitant hope that the battle was finally won.

"Is it over?"

"What just happened?"

"P-Potter …"

Harry turned his head and finally lowered his wand arm. Snape was trying to speak from the ground where he had fallen moments before. Harry moved over to him and crouched down next to his pale form.

"Can you move?" Harry said shakily.

Snape closed his eyes and squinted in discomfort.

"Did you do it?" he whispered, his voice very faint and as though every word caused him pain.

Harry looked over his shoulder. "I – I think so …"

Snape opened his eyes again and looked at Harry, a faint urgency raking his tone.

"You must burn … burn the body – the soul will not come back … there is nothing left to – to return … but the body must be burnt, or magicks can be done … his followers …"

"OK, I'll do it … if you sit up, we can –"

"Don't bother, Potter … I do not need your assistance any more, thankfully. I am done."

Harry frowned. "Done? You're not done. The Healers are coming in now from the perimeter … if you just –"

"I … I will be dead in a few seconds … I invented the spell that the Dark Lord used upon me … I know how it works. How … h-how apt that the double agent should be killed by the one he double crossed …"

Harry considered the broken man before him, the man who had so often made his life a misery, who had caused him pain, taunted him, hated his father … and he did not want him to die.

"But you … you _can't_ … you saved my life, I –"

"– oh, please Merlin, no rush of gratitude … at least when I am dead I will not have to endure your laudable needs …"

"Will you shut up? How can you lie there and be so sarcastic, I can help you if you just let me –"

"– and then what? Then I infiltrate myself back into a society that will forever hate me for the things that I have done? After everything you have achieved, Potter, the things you have done, you are still as ignorant as ever you were …"

Harry opened his mouth again, abashed, but Snape cut him off.

"I am aware that I did what I had to do … but they will not … they will _not_ forgive me. And I cannot live like that. I have done what needed to be done … look … look how far you have come."

His voice was fading and his eyes were glazing over … Harry didn't know what to do. He could hear people behind him, moving towards the fallen body of Voldemort, crying his own name in jubilation.

"If it wasn't for you, this would have been the end," Harry said, "and I'll make sure that everyone knows that."

Snape snorted. "Perhaps you are not – not quite as like your father, then … at least I have repaid my debt to him … even though it has cost me my life … it will allow-allow me to hate him in peace …"

Harry said nothing. He still hated Snape for his attitude towards his father but in that moment, it did not matter.

"Thank you for what you did," Harry said.

Snape closed his eyes, shaken by a rattling breath, and a small trickle of blood escaped his mouth.

"You … you d-did very well."

And then Harry knew that he was dead.

"HARRY!"

Hermione hurled her arms around him as she raced towards the edge of the grounds where they were.

"You did it! It's over!"

Harry looked at her. He felt numb, like it had not really happened.

"It's over, I think … it's over now."

And he smiled with her, a true smile that he felt he would never do in all his life, marked with something he felt that he could never escape, and he had beaten it …

More people began to crowd around.

"I see that Severus Snape's dead, then? Just as well, the stinking traitor," said an American Auror from just behind them, looking at Snape.

"He was NOT a traitor," Harry said sharply.

The man frowned. "But I thought –"

"Everyone thought," Harry said sternly. "And everyone was wrong. He did what he had to do to save everyone's life, and mine, and I'm going to make sure that everyone knows that."

Ron caught up with them, Lupin at his side.

"Harry … mate …"

And they embraced. It felt as though none of this was real … Harry had had dreams about this moment every night for as long as he could remember … and now it was here, and he could tell that the others felt the same … hardly daring to believe it.

"Is the Dark wizard truly vanquished?" asked a nearby centaur with a chestnut coat, muddied and bloodied by the battle, but standing proud nevertheless. "Is there any possible way in which he can return, as he has done before?"

It seemed true enough, as the Death Eaters who could not stand very well had surrendered their wands; surely something they would not have done if they believed their Lord to still be alive. Any others who may have still fought against the Order and the Aurors had fled.

"We have to burn it," Harry muttered. "We have to burn the body … Snape said to …"

"Harry!"

He turned … and there she was. Ginny, running towards him with all the fire in her eyes as she had had the first night they had realised their feelings, and she threw her arms around him in a similar fashion, holding him tight and screwing up her eyes and burying her face into his shoulder.

"Oh, my God … I thought you were dead! When I saw you walk forwards … I thought I as dreaming – I thought – I thought he'd already killed me! But I didn't care, I didn't care! I love you so much … and it's over, Harry! You did it."

"Shh … it's OK … I love you too."

He hugged her back tightly, his heart beating a violent drum and getting faster and faster as he realised the magnitude of this moment. The sun was coming up, and it was almost as though everyone had forgotten that nature continued … another day dawning, just as it did the day before … as though nothing had really changed, but everyone at Hogwarts knew that it had, forever.

Nearby, Ron held Hermione tight and kissed her too, never caring that people all around could see, not bothered that his father was grinning in the distance, nor his brothers smirking.

"There are Healers and a whole troop of Unspeakables coming in from the perimeter," said a voice from somewhere with a thick accent of some kind, Harry could not tell what. "They've sent the message that St Mungos is expecting us …"

More voices continued, telling each other of more plans, ways to get to the injured, how to Apparate in big groups … how many survivors … Harry let it wash over him.

"Harry … what about Voldemort? Did you say it had to be burned? Do you want to –"

Harry turned and took one final look at the corpse of the wizard who had blighted his life, and who had finally been stopped.

"Somebody else can do it," he muttered, and kissed Ginny instead.

- - - - -

The day in the aftermath of the battle was something that Harry remembered very little of. He heard facts and figures, that their side had suffered losses of 30, the worst of which had affected the French, and that 5 of all the casualties had been children. Harry took it in sombrely, but he had almost prepared himself for it. A great deal of Death Eaters had since gone on the run, but the majority had been manhandled to a secure location by the Aurors and members of the Order on standby, with very little fuss.

After the body of Voldemort had been burned, (by whom, Harry did not know and found that he cared very little) the survivors had made their way through Hogwarts to do an initial number count before any other reinforcements arrived. Harry had been overjoyed to find that Neville, Dean and Seamus were all alive; battered and bruised but nevertheless unscathed. This happiness was quickly quashed when Bill returned from the forest and told them that Luna Lovegood was one of those who had not survived the fire.

There were some more names of the dead relayed that Harry knew of; the centaur Firenze, Ewan Abercrombie, the Astronomy teacher Professor SInistra … but Hagrid was unscathed, as was Professor McGonagall, and this was some comfort. Draco Malfoy had been found on the seventh floor, lying dead next to his father, whom he had managed to stop. Harry felt oddly proud of Malfoy, coming through at the last minute to do something that Harry knew he would not have been able to live with himself for ignoring, even if he had survived. He was not sad at his death; but there was a definite pathos deep within his emotions that he knew Hermione and even Ron shared when he told them the news.

It seemed that, slowly, those who had been in charge before in the Ministry, were slowly regaining control. The fact that their side had effectively won and that Voldemort was officially dead had filtered through almost every channel possible, and it seemed like the whole world knew. It acted almost as a stimulant; as a catalyst … as a signal that they could take charge again, now that Harry had done what he had to do.

Harry heard all of this from a bed in St Mungos. He had protested at his being there, but the Healers that arrived shortly after the battle ended insisted that he needed a great deal of medical attention after having a little more than a 'near' death experience.

He lay there now, eyes closed, reliving the moment over and over again where he fired that final curse. Ginny was close by, her hand in his, her head lolling. As he opened his eyes slowly, her figure came hazily into view.

"What are you doing up? Shouldn't you be in the other ward?" he said.

Ginny had received some nasty burns from various spells and the like, but had not taken kindly to being wrapped in cotton wool and separated from Harry. Harry too did not enjoy being where he was, unable to help with the recovery of bodies and the clean up of Hogwarts, but after the Healers had told him that he had a fractured wrist, three broken ribs, temporary respiratory problems and severe bruising, he found himself loathe to argue with them.

"I didn't want to be far away from you," she said, squeezing his had.

Harry smiled. "It's OK … I'm right here. And I'm not going anywhere, not now."

"They've got someone heading the Ministry temporarily," Ginny said. "Apparently his name's Ginger Arkansas, and he's taken over from Scrimgeour. They're holding an official election next week."

"Well, life goes on I guess."

"It's weird though, seeing everything get back to normal."

Harry nodded. It was true, it was odd, but he found himself oddly uninterested in the politics of it all now he could finally detach himself from it. Ginny was looking at him with an odd expression on her face.

"What?" Harry asked.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course you can," he replied. "You can ask me anything."

"When you were still asleep in here … Ron told me pretty much everything after when Snape got you out … I suppose I just wanted to know … are you glad that they saved you?"

Harry considered her. It was true, he had been expecting this. Indeed it was a question that he had been asking himself for some time, since he had been lying there.

"I … when I jumped, in that moment … everything was so – so clear. I knew that everyone I loved would be alright, because I had faith that someone else would be able to kill Voldemort … if I did what I did."

"But what if they couldn't? What if people tried, and couldn't and he took over?"

Harry closed his eyes. "I knew that the only thing that kept him as strong as he was … was the fact that he believed he had the power. If I was gone, he wouldn't have it anymore. He didn't have power over me, the one thing that he wanted to have. And so I jumped … and yes, I didn't think that Snape or Ron or Hermione or Lupin would be able to save me."

Ginny looked away. "I don't think I would have been able to carry on with my life, if you didn't come back. And I'm not sure if I still can … knowing that you'd rather be somewhere else."

Harry considered her. "Ginny … I don't really remember very much after I blacked out in that water … but I do remember feeling very safe. I remember knowing that people I'd lost, like Sirius and my parents, were very close to me. Time didn't really mean anything, but I was warm, and I was safe. And I was loved. And when I was dragged back to that place, yeah, OK … I was angry. I was angry that they'd taken that away from me. But … after everything happened … now Voldemort's gone … and you're here, I … I wouldn't want to be anywhere else."

Ginny looked back at him.

"I love you. And nothing will ever change that. And I know that things are going to be odd, and I'll have to see how things go with everything … now everyone knows who I am and what I've done …"

"You never were one for celebrity status," she said with a twisted grin.

"No."

Ginny leant forwards slightly so that her nose was almost touching his. "I love you, too. And I'm glad that you came back, because it was for us too, wasn't it, and not just to kill Voldemort."

Harry nodded. "And now you're stuck with me."

"We could go away for a few weeks … just you and me … or maybe Ron and Hermione could come too, just until the hype dies down. What do you think?"

Harry grinned. "I think that's an excellent idea."

- - - - -

The next day, Harry was out of bed and on his feet. The Healers had told him that he was fit enough to go home, but then the realisation filtered through that he didn't really have a home to go to at the moment. Mrs Weasley, who was with him at the time, saw the look on his face and told him undoubtedly that his home was at The Burrow, and that he was to return with Ron as soon as he could. But there was one person that Harry did not want to leave behind.

He wandered into Remus Lupin's room in the far ward the next evening, things packed, but still unsure what to do.

At first, Harry thought that Lupin was asleep, still sore from his wounds, but his old Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher spoke from the shadows.

"You don't have to tiptoe, I know you're there."

Harry sat down in the chair next to his bed. "How're you feeling?"

"Oh … like someone played tennis with my brain. But I'll live. They had said already that I can return home within the next few days."

Harry nodded. "Me too."

"And how are _you _feeling, Harry?"

Harry shrugged. "Numb, I suppose. I don't know … it hasn't really sunk in yet, you know … that I can have a life now."

Lupin smiled gently. "It will. And then you'll have so much choice that you won't know what to do with yourself. You'll be like James no doubt … so indecisive with so many talents," he said with a small chuckle.

Harry lowered his head. "I was thinking of him," he said quietly. "In the lake, you know. When …"

"I know."

"I thought that I might see him again. I … it's like he was so close … and mum. I knew they were there."

"Harry … I did what I felt I had to do. But I am truly sorry if –"

"– and I just wanted to say thank you."

There was a pause and Lupin looked at his best friend's son with tired grey eyes.

"Thank you for bringing me back. Because it would have been so easy to just … give up. And I was confused at the time … I didn't – I didn't know what I wanted. But now … now I know. I'm going to be with Ginny for the rest of my life … I'm going to buy a nice house and I'm going to see my friends right … and I'm going to do something with my life that's worthwhile that _I _want to do. So … thank you … and I should have said it before."

Lupin opened his mouth, closed it again, and then closed his eyes. "Thank you for saying that, Harry. I'm … I'm so proud of you."

"Who knows … maybe you'll move house and move a bit closer when I've sorted myself out. I'd like to have you around. It'd make me … I don't know … feel safe, like there's a parent around, or something."

Lupin laughed. "I think you've proved yourself quite grown up enough for the both of us, Harry. But … I appreciate it. And yes, I would relish the opportunity to get out of my shabby little apartment and live closer to the people I love."

"Good. That's settled then."

"Talking of change," Lupin continued. "I have heard the most interesting rumours from within the Ministry."

"Oh, yeah?" Harry said.

"Yes. The word is … that the soon to be Minister for Magic, young Ginger Arkansas, is to make a personal request to employ the youngest ever Head of the Auror Department in the Ministry."

Harry raised his eyebrows. " … Not me?"

"Yes, you. They believe that they'll have some problems in the future with the Death Eaters who went on the run shortly after Voldemort fell … and who better to lead them than the one who vanquished their leader himself?"

Harry blinked. "But … but I'm not even eighteen yet."

Lupin cocked his head. "No … and perhaps the offer will not come until then. As I said … it is only a rumour. But I believe that it is an accurate one. Then again, perhaps you will wish to do something completely different."

Harry considered. "Maybe … I don't know. Whatever happens, I'm going on holiday with Ginny first. Then maybe I'll think about it."

"Good man. Now go on, you don't want to keep a red head waiting, or you may lose another limb."

Harry smiled at Lupin and rose from his chair. As he left the room, he saw a familiar person walking towards him from the opposite end of the corridor, carrying a mug of steaming coffee.

It was Cassie.

"Oh, hi Cassie," he said a little awkwardly. "Who're you visiting?"

"Hello, Harry … I'm just taking this in for Remus."

A small bubble of comprehension grew in Harry's chest as he noticed that she reddened slightly as she said it.

"Well I won't let it get cold," Harry said with a quick smile. "I'll see you later."

"Yes, OK … oh, and Harry?" she called after him.

Harry turned.

"You did amazingly. Everyone's so grateful and I … I just wanted to say, good luck with … whatever."

Harry smiled. "You too," and then he turned and walked away.

- - - - -

Two days later, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny stood outside the hospital grounds in London, the spring sun warm on their faces.

"Phew … I'm glad to be out of there," said Ron. "What a waste of sun. I didn't even need to be in there in the first place."

"You had seven bones to mend!" Hermione reprimanded affectionately.

"Yeah, well … strong as an ox, me."

"Where are we going, then?" Ginny asked, hoisting her luggage bag higher upon her shoulder. "I don't care as long as it's … you know. Remote."

"How about Fiji?" said Harry offhandedly.

"_Fiji_?" Hermione repeated, and even Ron seemed surprised. "You surely don't expect us to be able to Apparate to Fiji?" she added with a pointed look at Ron, whose Apparition skills everyone knew were slightly below par on the best of days.

"Well … no. But it'd be funny. And who knows where we'll end up? We can go wherever we like."

Ginny took his arm and squeezed it. "Sounds like fun."

"I'm not sure I want to go on holiday with those two," muttered Ron looking to his sister and his best friend. "They're barmy."

"Yep. But that's why you love us," Ginny said brightly.

Ron looked at them uncharacteristically sombrely. "I do, you know. Really."

There was a pause, as they all looked at each other with deep affection and serious faces … and then burst into an uncontrollable laughter that had nothing to do with Ron's comment, and everything to do with the fact that they were all freer than they had ever been in their lives, and could not wait for the rest of it to begin.

"Right. So … Fiji it is, then. Or near about," Ron stated.

Hermione grinned. "Or possibly … Wales."

- - - - - - - - - - -

_The End_

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* * *

**A/N: **A HUGE thank you to everyone who has ever left me a lovely review, or just taken the time to read. I assure you I have had more pleasure writing this than any of you can have had reading it. I hope to start another story soon … ready to write like crazy during the summer. Thanks again, and I hope you enjoyed **Marked. **

Rosie

xxxxxx


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